


Freak of Nature

by deathbyinsomnia



Series: The World of Arya [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angel Adam, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel World, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, M/M, Multi-Species
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 63,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbyinsomnia/pseuds/deathbyinsomnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU! In a world of only angels and humans, humans serve as slaves. When 16-year-old Castiel, a pure-blood angel, meets the city's "Freak" he doesn't know what to say. 18-year-old Dean is a half human-half angel hybrid. Between family and the love of his life, Castiel, who will he choose to save?<br/>...<br/>Rated for Language, it may be inappropriate for young readers, read at your own discretion.<br/>-COMPLETE-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gone Again

In Arya, the only surviving city in the world, there are two humanoid species that live on the planet long since abandoned by people who called it Earth. When you are born, all of your DNA is sorted and you inherit traits from your parents. In this strange happening of heretic miracles, however, your species is selected pretty much at random. You can have an entire family of humans and one may eventually be born an angel. The chances of this happening, however, is not in most people's favor. You can only be one species, you cannot be part human or part angel. You are either a winged angel or a lowly human.

Humans live as slaves to a system ran completely by the angels. Most humans work as personal servants to angelkind, some are other things like trash collectors, or other menial jobs that are deemed unworthy of someone with such pristine blood as the angels. This is where our story will begin. With the humans that all serve the house of Micheal the Elder. His family is the oldest-known family of pureblood angels. Michael lives in the large gated mansion community with his siblings and mother. Each sibling with their own house, and the mother with the largest house of the lot. Ones that are not of pure bloodline, like that of Adam Milligan, for instance, lives in the community, but in the house of the master their family serves.

This family is that of the Winchesters. This family consists of six. The mother: Mary, the father: John, and three sons: Adam, the youngest, Sam, then Dean, the eldest, and Sam's young wife: Jessica. Adam, however, was lucky to be born angelkind so he no longer lives with his family. He lives with the family of Micheal so he will be well taught but close to his family. He does not use the opportunity to stay close to them, though.

Adam treats his family poorly, like scum. Having "angel blood" seems to give everyone an ego, Sam once told his mother and she nodded in defeat. He may not have been her son, but it was her husband's son from an affair when they were having a rough patch. His mother died at the hands of an angel, but Adam seems to have long forgotten. The sun rises slowly over the horizon, lighting up the crumbled city of Arya. Mary felt it was her responsibility to care for Adam, to love him. She did both of those thing full-heartedly, but he completely ignored her kindness.

Sam stands, casting a smile to his sleeping wife, curled up in bed. He ignores the nightmares that plauged his sleep. He always ignored bad dreams if they were about Dean, otherwise the dreams would be, at least partially, accepted as a possibility and Sam refused to let that happen. Walking down the creaking stairs cautiously, he rounds the corner, expecting to see his brother Dean eating breakfast. No such luck. He sighs, grabbing a slice of bread and eating it slowly, looking around.

A heavy hand pats his shoulder and grips it, "Hey, Sam, how's the bread?"

Sam takes a second to finish the bite before he answers, "Slightly stale."

"How?"

He takes another bite, talking around the food, "Too crunchy, almost brittle."

His father nods thoughtfully, "I'll talk to Sir Michael."

Sam nods, and his father smiles tightly, "Your fourteenth birthday is today."

He nods, "I know."

His father's fake smile fades away as he leans into the counter, "You married Jess just a year ago, seems a lot longer though."

Sam nods again, the familiar distance between them settling in.

"I know you weren't too keen on the idea of the 'of-age arranged marriage' tradition."

The boy sighs, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair.

"No kidding."

His father's smile returns, but a small one, a real one.

"At least you fell in love with her."

"At first sight." Sam said softly.

"Just like your mother and I." John added wistfully, ruffling the boy's hair and heading towards his bedroom.

Walking to the dinner table, Sam notices a small note he didn't see before. It was Dean's handwriting, he mused to himself as he read it.

 

 

 

Sam sighed, "Jerk."

Today was Monday. He is used to Dean leaving for days, occasionally weeks, at a time but it doesn't mean he liked it. He heard light feet walking down the stairs and Jess smiled, bits of her curly hair falling in her face, her nightgown going halfway down her legs. Sam smiled at her, he loved Jess.

But his smile faded when he remembered Dean almost got married until his betrothed killed herself. The next one followed in her footsteps, as did the third.

_That's when he started to leave all the time._

_It was when people started being mean to him more._

_Calling him a freak of nature._

_I love my brother, he's the best brother I could ever have._

_Why can't anyone see him the way I do?_

These thoughts roamed through his mind like they have hundreds of times before.

Jess smiles sadly, knowingly, "When's he coming back?"

"Sunday." he responded, hugging her around the waist, burying his face in her neck.

She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back, "He'll come back, Sam, he always does."

Then, the unsaid question spills from his lips, "What if, this time, he doesn't?"

Jess ran a comforting hand along her husband's cheek, "You love your brother, he loves you too, he'll come back. Family always comes back."

He kissed her forehead, "Thanks, Jess."

She smiled meekly up at him, "Let's go get ready for work."

He nodded, holding her hand as he lead her up the stairs, the four Winchesters got ready to go to their Masters' as usual. Little did they know, things were being set in motion that were far beyond comprehension.


	2. The Hub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can take that stupid trench coat off Dean, no one can see but me."
> 
> So there he sat, Dean Winchester, with a single wing hanging down his back.

Dean walked down another pathway, his stomach growling. He ignored it, taking  _another_  turn around  _another_  corner as he slowly reached the thicket of the woods. Sometimes he spent his time there for days, weeks even, depending on how long he was away from home. He strolled into the woods, heading to his usual place, Bobby Singer's house. He knocked three times on the door before he counted under his breath,

"Three, two, and one-" Suddenly, a hand reached out and pulled him inside.

"What the hell d'ya think you're doin', ya idjit! How many times do I gotta say it! One day, someone will knock on that door and it won't be you, Dean!" Bobby barked, locking all seven locks on the door before narrowing his eyes at him.

Dean smiled, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, okay, Bobby. I brought more beer."

With Dean heading over to the fridge, Bobby sighed as he sat on his couch, "Hand me one while you're up, Dean."

Dean could not respond due to the bags of peanuts and chips in his teeth but he was polite enough to make a noise of affirmation around the bags. Grabbing four beers he set two by Bobby and two on the end table by the recliner he all but claimed as his own. Popping open their beers, Bobby cast a worried look over at Dean who'd already taken his first swig from the bottle.

"You can take that stupid trench coat off Dean, no one can see but me. I've known you since before you were born. I was with your dad at the time of your birth, for Christ's sake. So, Dean, take off the damn coat."

Dean refused to look at Bobby but nodded, standing and hung his black coat on a hook and sat back down.

So there he sat, Dean Winchester, with a single wing hanging down his back, he adjusted the feathers to drape over the arm rest.

Bobby looked on fondly, "It's a beautiful wing, it's really a shame to hide it." Dean stroked the feathers absently, refusing to look at Bobby.

"They hate me for it, Bobby. They call me a freak."

Bobby takes a drink of his beer, watching Dean. "Not once have I ever considered you a freak, Dean. Not once. It's a part of what makes you special." Ending on that note, they each took a handful of their snacks and shoved it in their mouths.

Bobby muttered between bites, "I love ya kid, you and Sam are my only sons."

A small, tentative smile creeps up as he looks over at Bobby, "We aren't kin, though." Bobby stood, downing the rest of his second beer.

"Family doesn't end in blood, son, now go out and get me some groceries. I'll chill your beer 'til ya get back."

Dean laughed, "I love how you wait until I'm comfortable."

Bobby grinned, "Which is why I always choose the perfect time."

Bobby leaned over his armrest, turning on his antique record player. He picks one that plays some band called "Metallica", one of Dean's many favorites in the collection that Bobby and Deans' father collected together. When Dean was younger, Bobby once told him that the record player was old, even when he was born. Dean smiled at the memory, it was really high-tech for the current time period now, though. Getting up to retrieve his coat, Dean hummed "Enter Sandman" enthusiastically, a slight spring in his step. Bobby knew that Dean loved music, he knew very well, but he also knew social requirements forbade anyone who wasn't angel (or in Dean's special case, pure-blood angel) to commit or even dabble in the fine arts. It hurt even more knowing that Dean couldn't share his gift of musical acclimation- Dean played guitar so well and sang pretty good too, it was such a shame, Bobby thought to himself.

"I'll be back in a half hour, Bobby. If I'm not back, just... nevermind. I'll be back. Bye, Bobby."

Dean shrugged on his coat quickly and slung a pack over his shoulder before hastily unlocking the locks and closing the door behind him. Bobby didn't lock it. He only needed to when Dean was there, since it was a crime to talk to "mutts" unless it was required to kill them. Bobby opened Dean's beer and started chugging it, he'd get Dean another one later.

Dean walked the forest path quickly and quietly, the need to stay hidden his top priority. He ducks under an arch of bent branches, headed towards an alleyway that leads to a straight shot to the main streets. Once arriving at the fence, after taking off his pack, he takes off his coat and slings it atop the fence. He puts the backpack back on, he has merely minutes before someone may notice his wing. Sure that all the barbed wire is covered, he grips his fingers into the chain-link fence and climbing up quickly. Here, he doesn't have to worry about the noise, the alley is pretty busy. It's usual loiterers typically include whores trying to make a quick buck, dealers, and the occasional rape and mugging- the usual for a town of this caliber. The angels live in a gated community of mansions, after all.

Dean finally jumps onto the cement, a few feet off the ground, the city streets bustling behind him. He keeps the city in his peripheral vision, the alley way in full alert. No one is there. He takes a breath of relief, pulling the leather jacket from the fence and putting it back on as quickly as he can. He puts the almost-empty bag back on and heads towards the hub. He gets to the grocery vendors and collects water, some fruit, vegetables, and salted meat. Realizing he forgot bread, he grabs a loaf and hands them all to the vendor and pays for them, reluctantly, with Bobby's food money. Prices had risen lately and it had been getting ridiculous.

Once he packs it all into the bag, he heads for the exit. On high alert, he hears a few whispers concerning Micheal, his parent's "master". He stops, subtly, as if looking at the pocket knives spread haphazardly across the plastic table.

"I heard his little brother is in deep, in big trouble with..." the man looks around before whispering even softer, "Babalon".

He almost drops the knife he's holding,  _Babalon?!_ , he says inwardly.

"You mean..." the other guy trails off.

"Yeah," the guy licks his lips nervously, "the 'Mother of the Angels'."


	3. Dried Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turns into an alley and sees someone curled into a ball, covered in blood. "Dammit."
> 
> Taking off his bag, he looks around and starts giving CPR.
> 
> ...
> 
> "I couldn't just leave him there. Everyone just kept walking past him. I didn't want to leave him there, knowing he could die."
> 
> Bobby sighed, "Dean, you have a big heart. If only your brain was as big, sometimes."

Dean felt gooseflesh prickle his skin and he walked away briskly, heading back towards the woods.

His thoughts were racing,  _Babalon? Christ, just the name gives me the creeps._

He pushes through the crowd entering the building, and decides to take the long way to Bobby's. 

_I can't let him see me so freaked out over some stupid rumor._

He walked through the darker alleyways and thought of his wing. Every girl he saw that noticed him on the street gave him sweet, sometimes sultry, smiles.

His wing clung tighter and tighter to his body as he walked,  _This was a terrible idea._  

Anyone who gets close to Dean thinks he's wonderful, perfect, all these things until they see his wing. Once they find out he's "The Freak", they immediately kill themselves from the shame and to hide from what others would think of being engaged to the "mutt". This is Dean Winchester's curse. _  
_

He flips up the collar of his coat, hoping he can hide from the looks, the stares, the grim knowing that he isn't what he seems. To draw less attention, he begins walking the crowded streets, keeping his eyes downcast. He flips up the hood of his zip-up and keeps himself aware of how still his wing should be. He turns into an alley and sees someone curled into a ball, covered in blood.

"Dammit."

He got down on his knees, rolling the body over.

"Oh, shit. Is he dead?"

He put his ear to the man's chest and heard a soft heartbeat with no breathing. Taking off his bag, he looks around and starts giving CPR. After the third round of compressions and breaths, a large gust of air comes from him.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, pulling his backpack on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I will be fine."

However, before Dean could be thanked, he continued walking the street in the direction of the backway to Bobby's house.

The man stood, noticing the blood on his clothes and sighed, getting up. He checked his arms where most of the blood had gathered, no gashes. He nodded to himself, still drenched in mostly-dry blood, and walked in the direction towards home. Quietly wondering why someone had saved him. He couldn't see the person's face, and they probably didn't see his considering how dark the alley was from the overhanging roofs. A small smile came to the saved boy's face, getting many worried and terrified looks from those around him.

Dean, having already gone through the woods, was now the walking inside Bobby's and locking the locks. He brought bag from his shoulder and Bobby immediately stopped him.

"Dean, what did you do to your hands?!"

Quickly, Dean looked then calmed down from his mini-heart attack.

"This guy in an alley was dying... I gave him CPR."

Bobby rolled his eyes as Dean washed the blood from his hands in the kitchen sink before unloading the backpack.

"Dean, who knows how many diseases or something you could've gotten from kissing some stranger!"

Dean sent a look of distaste from the ice box, "Do I need to mention my birthday when I was ten or are we good?"

Bobby scoffed.

"Plus, I couldn't just leave him there. Everyone just kept walking past him. I didn't want to leave him there, knowing he could die."

Bobby sighed, "Dean, you have a big heart. If only your brain was as big, sometimes."

Dean chuckled a little, putting the bag back by the door and hanging up his coat. He took off his hoodie, the wing passing up right through it.

"I'll never get used to that, it's really weird, kid."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, but it beats cutting holes in my clothes to fit the bones and feathers."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully, "I don't think I've ever asked, but, how do you keep your wing from going through your trench coat, then?"

Dean sighed, "I have to will them to stay hidden. It's really hard to do, but I've gotten used to it."

Bobby stands and turns off the record player, "Play something for me, Dean."

Dean shakes his head, a small smile growing on his face, "Knew you'd make me practice eventually."

Bobby gets an acoustic guitar from a hidden compartment in his closet and hands the case to Dean.

"I want to hear your voice too, boy, you have a voice just as good as any of them angels."

Dean nods, opening the case and setting the guitar in his lap, his legs crossed on the floor.

"I think I know what I'll play first. It's that 'Earthen' folk song you like. Let's see, how does it go..."

He puts his fingers on the frets and it all comes back to him,

"Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."

Bobby smiles, watching Dean play. He was smiling so much, his eyes were closed, and he belted the words by memory. Bobby remembered giving Dean the guitar for the first time, when he was 7.

"Be careful, son, it's really old."

Dean had laughed, "Looks fine to me!"

He put it on his lap and just started strumming like a madman. Ever since, all Dean wanted for his birthday was sheets of music with the lyrics on them. He would memorize them in a week and be able to play them almost perfectly after playing it several times.

Once Dean finishes, he looks up at Bobby with a childish smile, "How was it?"

Bobby fights back the feelings of nostalgia and smiles, "Gets better every time you play it. That was one of the better of the ones I gave you for your birthday."

Dean nodded, "I'm eighteen now, but you still are going to give me sheets, right?"

Bobby smiled, ruffling Dean's unkept hair, making his bangs fall in his eyes.

"Sure, I'll always find you music, as long as you want me to. Now, you need to head home."

Dean stood quickly, guitar neck in his hand, "Bobby, I wanted to stay til Sunday, with you."

Bobby adjusted his cap, "Dean, you have a duty to the angels you serve. I've got a permanent limp, useless to them, that's the only reason why I can stay out here and no one knows I'm gone. Sooner or later they will find out about you sneaking off and they will find out about your DNA. Now, are you willing to risk dying just to come sit and drink beer with me?"

Dean opened his mouth and Bobby grabbed his cane, grumbling, "Nevermind, don't even think of answering that."

Dean laughed softly, "Fine. I'll be back in a few days. See ya, old man."

He put on his hoodie and coat, then made his way towards his house.

"They'll definitely be at Micheal's by now. I'll just make some food or something for when they get home."

He didn't even know the guy he saved earlier, he hadn't seen his face. He didn't even understand how important that meeting was. All he knew was a soft, gravelly voice, a bloodied dress shirt, a blue tie, and a tan trench coat. The unnamed man didn't see Dean either, all he saw was a voice laced with concern, strong hands, and soft lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a great acoustic cover of the song on youtube, just copy-paste it into the search.
> 
> It'll be the first video listed. :)
> 
> Carry On My Wayward Son - Kansas (Acoustic Cover) Daniel Mooney


	4. A Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sat by himself on a long side of the table, Sam across from him and Jess to his right. John sat by Sam and Dean, Mary by Jess and the empty seat where Adam used to sit.
> 
> As if an unspoken rule, no one looked at that seat. It was as if it was forbidden. No one objected. They ate in silence.

_Angels fell from the sky, his ancestors, falling amongst the humans who slowly nursed them to health. Flashes of breeding camps formed by these angels, eventually wiping out the human race due to inter-species insemination done in secret. Anarchy as they overthrew the human government. They became the top species._

_All animals that were not deemed as pets were exterminated. Burned, starved, the works. The angels were well-aware of what they were doing and they didn't care. They made humans become their servants and upon realizing that occasionally a human family borne an angel baby, understood they had the upper hand. These disgraces could be put to use for angel jobs that were neater than a humans' but too filthy for a normal angel._

_Pure-blood angels became the death of Earth, and the birth of a Utopia, a single land mass left that was not sunken or flooded by the final war between the humans and the angels. Formerly known during the time of Earth as the Lindesnes Region of Norway. As the cities began to sink, everyone flocked to the lands still standing, bringing everything they could with them, their life packed in suitcases. A small city surrounded by ocean, the only city left in existence. All that's left of a once-beautiful world._

_Castiel thought of this somberly, as he usually did while sitting on the coast, what a beautiful world it must have been. The textbooks he's read assigned by tutors must have been wrong. How can a land of such promise, with such wonderful culture, possibly be such a dark, terrible place? He hears footsteps as a figure crouches on their haunches in front of him. Castiel screams in horror. A dagger raised above his chest, brought down, pain, and cesious eyes with an evil smile..._

Whispers and muffled screams sounded as Castiel tossed and turned in bed, having a nightmare. He woke with a start, finding his face pressed into a pillow soaked with snot and tears. His throat was sore from screaming. He grabbed a tissue from his bedside table and wiped his nose and wiped his wrists against his eyes, brushing the tears away. He threw away the tissue and took the silk cover from the pillow and exchanged it for a new one after tossing the old one in a hamper.

He rang the bell to alert a servant, once he arrived, he asked the boy to send word to his brother to come see him at his own discretion. The boy bowed and scurried off, closing the door behind him. Castiel slid back under the covers, pulling the blankets tighter around his bare torso. Slowly falling asleep, he began to think to himself. He remembered the eyes that looked so concerned, so scared over a complete stranger. Castiel imagined how they looked, how they smiled, how they laughed. His nightmare slowly becoming forgotten.

"The one who saved me... I want to properly thank them." he smiled, curling against a pillow.

...

Dean got back to his house and began making what food he could with what little there was and a small frown pulled at the corners of his mouth when an idea crossed his mind. An idea that could easily support their family. An idea that could just as easily get him killed. Or his family killed, he thought, making him frown.

Deciding he needed to hurry and finish before they got home in the next twenty minutes, he began dicing a small, boneless chicken breast he found in the kitchen, storing the other half. Tossing the pieces into a skillet, he starting boiling some rice separately. Grabbing a bottle of lemon juice and some pepper, he turned off the oven, pouring the chicken onto the large bowl of rice. He made the lemon sauce, adding the pepper, and split the dish onto 5 plates.

He smiled smugly, cleaning up the dishes before putting them away.

"Man, that looks good enough to eat. They better hurry back before I eat their portions."

He set the table and put each plate with a fork at everyone's seat except his own, where he placed a spoon. Sam always laughed at him, calling him a pig, although Dean never disagreed.

_'Well, unlike you polite folk, I like to finish eating before the next sunrise.', he had said once which made Jess, John, and Mary giggle while Sam just rolled his eyes, 'Your sense of irony is astounding.' Dean grinned at that, shoveling his food into his mouth._

The memory made him chuckle, then after finishing the dishes, he heard the front door open. Dean walked out to meet them, smiling.

"I made dinner." Dean said slowly, leaning against the banister with a smile.

Jess beamed, "Really! Yay, I've missed your cooking!"

Sam rolls his eyes as she hugs Dean and kisses him on the cheek before sprinting to the dinner table. John says a mumbled hello, heading to the table, following Sam. Mary kissed Dean on the head, smiling.

"Thanks, sweetie."

"Anytime, mom." He said with a smile, walking with her to the table.

Dean sat by himself on a long side of the table, Sam across from him and Jess to his right. John sat by Sam and Dean, Mary by Jess and the empty seat where Adam used to sit. As if an unspoken rule, no one looked at that seat. It was as if it was forbidden. No one objected. No words were exchanged. Dean finished first, so he headed to his room, then John, then Jess, then Sam, who all headed to their rooms. Mary finished last, so she washed the remaining dishes.

Dean had the smallest room, not that he minded, because his had the view. He had the only bedroom window in the house, and the only window facing away from the dirty streets, the only window on the block with a view of the ocean. He always sat at the bench by the window, watching the shore. Other than the bench, he only had a small bed that he'd outgrow if he grew even one more inch. It was cozy. Comfortable. Simple. Dean liked simple. He liked having control over something in his life.

...

Bobby frowned, hearing static pull through his CB radio, the only form of radio communication not outlawed in Arya. The angels don't know, and the humans keep it that way.

"Hunter, here." Bobby said slowly.

"It's Momma Bear, good to hear from you."

Bobby rolled his eyes, "Christ, Ellen, change your handle it sounds stupid."

Ellen responded, "Whatever, Robert. Anyway, I've got a job for you, get one of your connections to take it and send them to me."

Bobby sighed, "Tell me the details."

Once all was explained he frowned, "I've got your guy. He'll be there tonight."

She gave her sendoff and he switched to the only other frequency he used.

"Hunter to Princess." He said sardonically, looking at his feet.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

"Dean, there's a job, and I'm sending you."

Dean frowned, looking away from his handheld CB, "Where?"

"The Roadhouse."

"When?"

"Now."

"Be right there."

"Dean?" Bobby muttered apprehensively. "Don't forget, you can always say no."

As his farewell he muttered, "Thanks, Bobby." and turned the radio off.


	5. The Roadhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How much if I kill 'em?"
> 
> "Ration cards worth about four hundred dollars and another six hundred in cash."
> 
> He choked on the beer he was swallowing, "Seriously? For one angel?"
> 
> "Lots of risks in this job, plus, this one is... special." Ellen said in a strained tone.

He shut the window quietly from the outside and scaled slowly down the wall with the help of a reinforced drain pipe he's been using for years. He made sure that it'd been kept up constantly, as to not break if he decided to sneak out. His dad didn't mind him leaving much he understood it . His mother and Jess didn't approve, but didn't mind as long as he was safe. Sam didn't like him leaving entirely. Sam had a tendency to want everyone within eyesight in case something were to go wrong.

Dean slunk quietly into the street, pulled up his hood, and stuck to the alleyways. He knew what he was getting himself into. Bobby had talked about his old occupation many times before but doing it himself was an entirely different matter.

...

_On Sam's second birthday, Bobby joined the Winchesters for the party and while Sam was being fed his mother, Bobby brought Dean aside. He'd been nervous about telling Dean such a thing, but he was getting older and needed to find out sooner or later. It was better he knew now._

_"You always tell me you wanted to grow up just like me but that isn't the best idea, kid."_

_"Well, why not?" he huffed, hands on his hips, making for one fierce-looking six-year-old._

_"I used to be a Hunter, Dean."_

_"What's that?" trusting eyes stared up at Bobby, making him waver._

_"I killed people for money." he said too quickly, the look of brief surprise was in Dean's eyes._

_"Were they bad people?"_

_"If they were murdered for hire, it's safe to assume they were." he pulled off his cap, brushing his thinning hair back._

_"Why did they have to die?"_

_"I don't know, Dean. It was just their time." the question stunned him._

_With a goodbye to everyone, left the party early. He had a job waiting on him._

_..._

Dean pushed open the door to the Roadhouse, a woman smiled from behind the bar.

"Are you Bobby's friend?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking a seat at one of the bar stools.

"Lookin' a little wet behind the ears, I bet you aren't even old enough to drink."

Dean smiled charmingly, "Does it matter? I'm old enough to do a lot of things."

She laughed good-naturedly at the innuendo. Dean gave her an appreciative once-over, paying special attention to the bemused smile on her face. He notices the small wrinkles around her mouth and the dark shimmer in her eyes. Taking a look around, he gets up from the stool and slips into a booth in the back. She nods in his direction to a girl who makes her way slowly over to Dean. Long blonde hair and a nervous smile met Dean's soft smile.

"I'm Jo, and I'll be your waitress, is there anything you'd like?"

He tore his attention away from her and stared out the window, "No money."

"On the house, Ellen's orders."

"Ellen?" Dean looked back at Jo, confused.

"The woman you spoke to before."

Ellen cast him a look resembling confirmation.

"Then... get me a beer."

"You don't seem old enough." Jo said suspiciously.

"I'm not, but can you can make an exception. Can't ya, Jo?" he said with a sly grin.

Her cheeks reddened a little, "Okay... what should I put on the order?"

He laughed, "Dean. As for the type of beer, you pick your favorite, kiddo."

"Not a kid."

"You're 14, like my baby brother."

"I'm 15, actually."

"So... about that beer." Dean said with a grin.

"I don't drink, so I'll just do the most popular of them."

Dean laughed, "Okay... kiddo."

She smiled, rolling her eyes, "Coming right up."

...

She'd brought him a beer and he drank slowly, waiting for the place to close. Jo tapped Ellen's shoulder, offering to bartend until she explained what she needed to Dean. Ellen took up on the offer, sitting across from him and offered a small smile.

"Just so you know, Jo's off limits, she's my daughter."

"Knew she got her good looks somewhere." he grinned and she laughed.

"Onto serious business, you are aware what kind of work this is, right?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Bobby told me."

She paused, "Well, per usual, this is an angel job-"

He leaned forward, "Wait, wait- hold on a second. You mean I need to hunt human Emu birds? This wasn't in the job description."

"Emu birds?"

"Because they can't fly, and you're serious about the angel thing?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, and sighed before speaking again. She seemed tired, and it made Dean worry a little.

"Yes, Dean. Almost all of the targets are angels because not many humans are worth killing."

"How much?"

"Ration cards worth about four hundred dollars and another six hundred in cash."

He choked on the beer he was swallowing, "Seriously? For one angel?"

"Lots of risks in this job, plus, this one is... special."

"Special, how?"

"He's in the main branch family of the angels, and head of government, his name is-"

"Michael."

"You know him?"

"It's my family's patron angel."

A look of shock crossed her features and her eyes widened, "I'm sorry, I'll give you a different job when it arises and-"

"No. I'll do it." Dean frowned, looking out the window.

"Okay... considering his special police is always around, you can use the position to get close, then you can kill him."

She talked about it like she would talk about the weather and it gave Dean chills, "Good idea... I was planning on going back to work for him anyway."

"You stopped?"

"I'd hang out with Bobby."

"There's three kinds of people in this world we live in: Hunters, Servants, and Small Business Owners Who Were Legally Exempt From Servitude. The Hunters are a myth to them and we plan on keeping it that way so stay safe, because no hunter will risk their skin for you. Martyrs are insignificant in this day and age."

He nodded solemnly, getting out of the booth and she walked past him slowly, muttering, "You have until the start of next month."

Without a word, he secured his hood and headed back towards his house. Deep down, he wondered what she would've thought if he told her what he was, then decided against it. She might think he had some sympathy for those winged bastards.


	6. No Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked up as there was a knock on his door, he knew that the servants were still climbing the hill, so there was one of four chances he'd get it right. Standing, he opened the door and his brother walked in with a smile.
> 
> "Hello, little brother, miss me?"

Dean snuck back to his house, climbing the pipe and as soon as he entered his room, a disgruntled brother greeted him from the doorway.

"Where in the hell were you?" he frowned, walking closer to Dean.

Dean looked like a boy who's hand was caught in the ration jar. He was sweating, with a wobbly smile and a lie on the tip of his tongue.

"Don't lie. I just want to know one thing. Is whatever you're doing safe, Dean?"

He took a shaky breath and smiled, "Of course. Can't leave without a hug from my little brother."

Sam frowned and left the room, trying to ignore the implication in his words. Dean frowned, dropping onto his bed and turned the volume down on his radio, calling out to Bobby.

"I took the job."

"Be careful."

"Always am."

"Idjit." he huffed, cutting the connection.

Dean turned off the radio and changed into a comfy shirt and pants, sliding into bed. He frowned, watching the sky through the window, he'd start working for Micheal tomorrow. He has 30 days to kill the man that gave his family their only income. As he stared at the moon, bright in the sky, he knew that when he killed Micheal, he'd be the breadwinner of the family. Dean, however, wasn't unnerved by the revelation. He was ready to provide for his family, no matter the circumstances. Sam had told him it'd be the death of him one day and Dean knew it was, but he preferred to keep those kind of thoughts on the back-burner.

* * *

Castiel got out of bed, sneaking over to the kitchen. Once he got there, he retrieved a few vegetables from the counter and put them in his pockets, leaving out the back door and into the garden. Quickly, he found the hidden fox den and reached his hand in, putting the food inside. The fox peeked it's head out, licked his hand, and returned to eating. Somehow, this small fox family had managed to survive the wipeout and Castiel felt responsible to hide them and protect them from his brother, a strict follower of the Enochian Code.

He spoke to them, whispering fond words of protection before running back into the house. He was quiet, stealthy, as he closed the door. He walked towards the music room and grabbed a music book from the shelf, pleasantly reading it's contents. Castiel slept during the day and prowled his house at night, afraid of his brother's wrath. Castiel felt it was unfounded to fear his brother, but did it nonetheless. Fear was a choice, he knew that, but he wanted to be ready if any danger did happen to arise.

Once he finished the entirety of the book, the sun was beginning to rise. Realizing his mistake, he used his long and silent strides to run around the corner and up the stairs. He could never be known by anyone except family and his attendant, who should be considered a servant, but Castiel respected them more than his brother ever did. Once he reached his room and quietly closed the door, he looked briefly out the window through his curtains. He saw the attending family walking up the hill and saw something strange about it, but ignored it.

He looked up as there was a knock on his door, he knew that the servants were still climbing the hill, so there was one of four chances he'd get it right. Standing, he opened the door and his brother walked in with a smile.

"Hello, little brother, miss me?"

"Good morning, Balthazar." Castiel said with a small smile.

Balthazar was a little under six foot tall and the same height as Castiel, but he was slightly more tanned since he could leave during the day. He was like Castiel, a half brother, but still had wings. His hair was dirty blond, messy, and made his blue eyes sparkle when he grinned. Castiel only wished he could be as attractive once he was 21, like him. He had two years to go, and couldn't wait until that time came.

Balthazar motioned to the couches in the corner of the room, sitting across from him. He crossed one leg over the other, watching Castiel affectionately. He was well aware that his affections for his brothers was one of the few things that kept Castiel in this bird cage of a mansion. He respected Castiel for taking each blow with a grateful smile, and wished he could do so himself.

"How's your morning so far?" Balthazar started, smiling as Castiel kept losing focus, staring out the window.

"I fed them, they looked excited."

"Good. Glad to hear it."

"Is there a meeting today?"

Balthazar frowned, "Sorry, kiddo, not today. Maybe one of the guards could visit."

Castiel laughed, "One of the guards? They don't know about me, even so, they seem boring."

"Well, actually, one of them is caught on to you, Castiel. He's been bugging our brother for information."

"Really?" his voice peaked, interested.

"Yeah, he's the head of special police, the other guards don't have a clue, they must not be smart."

"Brother usually hires brawn, not brains."

"Very true, he likes to hire those that resemble him."

Before Castiel could laugh or scold his brother, there's footsteps coming up the stairs and Balthazar kissed Castiel on the top of his head, leaving the room.

"Be good, Castiel."

"Stay hidden, Balthazar." he nodded, closing the door and a head poked in.

"Sir?"

"I told you it's fine to call me Castiel."

"Well... Castiel... I was wondering if it's alright if I could let my brother serve you temporarily. He wants to serve Michael but needs the experience since he's been so... sickly, up until now."

"Sounds alright to me," he sighed, he really liked Sam as his attendant, too bad.

"I'll have to ask for permission first, so nothing is set in stone. Sorry to leave you like this but I miss seeing Jess all day."

Castiel nodded dutifully, "I understand. Be sure to bow when you address my brother, he's extremely picky like that."

"Thanks, Castiel." Sam smiled, closing the door.

Castiel had only caught a glimpse of this "brother" as he walked up the hill, he had frowned, his shoulders drooped, and he seemed very troubled. The way that Sam talked about him was fond but always frustrated, it reminded him of his relationship with Micheal and Lucifer. He hoped he could get along with Dean, otherwise it would be a very depressing few weeks.


	7. Given Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, what're you hiding for?"
> 
> "I'm not hiding, Dean, just observing."
> 
> "So you were hiding."
> 
> "I guess you could call it that."

After a long (and extremely drawn out) talk with Michael, he agreed to allow a temporary arrangement of Dean working for Castiel and eventually, for him. The thought made Michael cringe, but he could use the help of a servant on occasion even if they were... human. Just the thought of the word made him gag as he rifled through his paperwork he needed ready for the meeting with his brothers. He needed to be well-prepared upon their arrival. Sam, realizing he was intruding on the angel's train of thought, he quietly excused himself to the outside of the double doors where the head of Special Police and his trainee were waiting to escort him back to his duties.

"So, whatever you as'ed 'im? Did 'e agree or did 'e blow ya off?" he said with mild interest, adjusting his helmet.

"He agreed."

"That's a first." he heard the trainee mumble under his breath.

"Sir Michael is a wise man, he knows what's best." Sam said shorlty, scolding both of them.

"Wise he may be, fair he isn't. He thinks humans scum, if ya haven't figured it out."

"Dean, go on ahead. It's all set." Sam told his brother, ignoring the two who were now talking aloofly behind him.

"Who are those guys? They're making it pretty obvious they don't like their jobs, bet they don't get many bonuses." Dean suppressed his amusement.

"No idea, part of the Special Police. They're hired only for status and fighting abilities, probably." he muttered, pointing to Castiel's room. "He's in there."

Dean nodded, opening the door slowly. The room was dark, the curtains drawn and no lamps lit so you could see around the room. He closed the door behind him, walking into the middle of the room. Spotting a candle, he pulled a box of matches from his pocket and lit the tall, black candle. He took another look and noticed a figure standing in the corner, watching him. The light from the candle only gave their eyes a soft, almost nightshine glow. Walking over, candle in hand, he walked closer and brought the candle closer.

"Hey, what're you hiding for?" Dean said with a small smile, trying to sound consoling.

He'd been told by Sam that who he was serving was to remain a secret but that they were around the same age and that he was very polite, although extremely distant. He'd also been told that Sam was also very open with this angel, something that was beyond a little strange to Dean, who knows that every human (or in his case, half-breed) were suspicious, if not fearful, of the angels.

"I'm not hiding, Dean, just observing."

"Observing me? To whom do I owe this gracious honor of being studied like lab specimen?" Dean said lightly, laced with sarcasm.

"Not like a lab specimen, per se. I was just seeing how you would react prior to meeting me face-to-face."

"So you were hiding."

"I guess you could call it that."

"So what's your name, anyway?"

"It's Castiel."

"What a boring name." Dean said with a huff, moving within 4 feet of him now.

"It's the only name I have." he said, matter-of-factly.

"Step into the light, will ya, Cas? All this squinting is giving me a headache."

"Alright." he stepped closer, only part of Dean's face showing in the low lighting.

Something seemed extremely familiar about that face, and that voice, but he just couldn't place it. Castiel took the candelabra from his hand, set it back on the table and sat in one of the chairs at the table.

"You can join me if you want. Otherwise, it'll be an extremely boring day."

Dean, realizing this wouldn't be the worst advice he's ever taken, sits across from the angel and takes off his jacket, making sure his wing remained hidden, even though the room was practically pitch black.

"Talk to me, Dean. Your brother, Sam, he served me as loyal as anyone but he didn't understand that I don't need a servant, but a friend. I'm hoping that you can be my friend, Dean. I'm hoping that we could become friends. We could talk all day until you leave and you'd still be paid a generous sum. Would you do that for me Dean? Could you attempt to be my friend?"

"Sammy didn't want to be your friend? Why?" Dean bit his tongue, realizing for that one second, he sympathized with this angel creep.

"I'm an angel and he's labeled as my servant, even in my position I am not really one able to make friends normally."

"Now why is that?"

"I'm... not a normal angel."

"Define 'not normal'."

"As you are aware, I have 3 brothers. Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel, but they are not my only siblings. I also have a brother named Balthazar who, like me, is shunned from the branch families because we are half-siblings to them. We have no power in society, no wealth, and no functioning ability in the outside world. Balthazar is given permission to leave since he is of age and is attempting to pull some strings to be able to 'function' in society. I, however, cannot leave my room, go outside, or open any windows per chance that anyone should see me."

"That's not right."

"But there's a reason why no one should see me, Dean."

"What's the reason?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."

"Does it have something to do with why you're hiding your wings?"

Suddenly, a look of bewilderment crossed Castiel's face, "No one outside of the angel community should know that!"

Realizing his mistake, his covered his anxiety with an air of suspicion, "My brother is Adam Milligan, he showed me some stuff before he left."

"He's your half-brother, correct?"

"Yeah, taken under Michael's wing in probably more than one sick sense of the word."

Castiel scrunched his face in confusion, "Is that a euphemism?"

"If you mean innuendo, most likely."

"Not all innuendos are euphemisms, you know."

"Thanks for the vocabulary lesson." he grumbled, looking drearily at the closed curtains.

"Would you like another one?" Castiel asked with a small smile, glad they were getting along.

"No thanks. So, want me to help clean the room or something?"

"It's fine, I clean it myself. I usually would mess it up so Sam would not complain about having nothing to do."

"Yeah, he tends to do that."

"Wanna play a game? This is not an innuendo, by the way."

"Sure. I don't know many games, though."

"It's alright. I'll teach you." he stood, reaching into his closet and getting a glass chessboard and setting it up.

"This looks complicated."

"I'll teach you."

"Alright, Cas, but if I lose, it's on you."

"You called me Cas again."

"Do you not like it?"

"It's fine. I like it. Can I call you Dean?"

"You already have."

"But now I have your permission."

"You're one weird angel." Dean said with a laugh, watching Cas move his first pawn.

"That's what they keep telling me." he muttered under his breath.

At that moment, Dean realized that whether he meant to or not, Cas managed to change the subject away from his wings. It made Dean wonder. What was so special about Cas's wings?


	8. Things Overheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin didn't move his eyes from his food as he ate, "There's word of a human disease called Rhytonictaltis that causes high metabolism, agitation, emotional distance, a lower immunity to sickness, and an easy temper."
> 
> "Sounds like a wives tale."
> 
> "It's a chemical imbalance within the body and brain. He could've had that."
> 
> "No possible way. He's hiding something, Tran."

After a half hour of playing the confounded game, Castiel had checked Dean three times and told him how to avoid the checkmate every time. Dean gave up, letting Castiel beat him and frowned at the lack of captured pieces on Cas's side. The ones he had managed to capture, Dean knew that they were freebies on Castiel's part.

"This game sucks."

"I find it very intellectually stimulating, you can also learn a lot about a person depending on how they play chess."

Dean sighed, "Ever played checkers?"

"No, is it fun?"

"Well, compared to this it's a freaking carnival of joy."

"Let's play, then."

After explaining the game twice and trying to convince him that, no, they were absolutely not the same thing, Dean started the game and moved his psuedo-checkers pieces right into lines of capture. After Castiel had captured three of his pieces, he frowned.

"You're letting me win."

"Far from it, you're on your way to Losertown."

"I'm not traveling anywhere."

"Let me explain. I affectionately call this game Human Sacrifice because if you want to trap your opponent and get the pieces, you need to be willing to sacrifice all but one to this cause. You need to be ready for it to be back and forth until they're cornered and if you see how I move right here," he moved a piece in line with one of Cas's offensive pieces. "You jump me either way and I triple jump you to victory."

Castiel nodded to himself, "That's a genius stradegy, but it's also extremely barbaric and risky. What if it didn't work?"

"Then I wasn't trying hard enough." Dean looked at him seriously, the candle sharpening his features and darkening them into an ominus shadowy inkiness.

They stared at each other a minute before Cas's stomach growled, loudly. Dean laughed, pulling out his pocketwatch, surverying the time. Realizing it was already break time for lunch, he stood quickly, pushing his chair back under the table.

"I'm going to go eat lunch" Dean interjected, catching a flash of abandon in Castiel's eyes before sighing, "I was wondering if you wanted anything I could bring back."

"A hot kettle of water, a few tea bags, and an apple would be great."

"What's with the rabbit food?"

"I like to keep a balanced diet."

"I'm getting you some real food, stay here." Dean said with a stubborn tone, heading to the kitchen.

"He's going to eat with me..." Cas smiled, standing to retrieve two tea cups from a shelf in his closet.

* * *

Sam scrambled up from his seat, rushing over to Dean as he picked up two plates and began filling them with food.

"Dean, hey, how do you like the new job?" he whispered, taking one of his plates and filling it for him.

"Not bad, we both agree that you look like, and whine like, a girl."

"Deeeeaaaaaannnn."

"Point made."

"I mean, do you..." he lowered his voice as the two members of Special Police from earlier watched them. "I mean is he behaving?"

"Like an angel." Dean laughed, realizing his unintended joke. "And you say I'm not funny."

"That's because you're not, Dean."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Come on, ladies, no need to fight!" the captain of S.P. said with a grin.

"Who are you, reject?" Dean snided back, taking the full plate from Sam's hand to join his own plate.

"Oh, come now, no need to get nasty." He stood, walking over to Dean, "I'm Crowley. The trainee over there is Kevin."

The other S.P. were at their posts while these two were on break, they would have been admonished towards this display of civil interaction with humans (and one halfbreed). Dean found the idea amusing, so he pushed the boundary a little farther.

"You sound like you'd know where the teapot and tea is."

"I do, actually." he said without a hint of malice, handing over the hot kettle with a few tea bags from the stove.

"Thanks, Crowley."

"Anytime, love." he says flatly, returning to his seat across from Kevin.

Dean puts all the food on a tray, saying a quick goodbye before walking out. Sam sat at his seat beside Jess, sighing in exasperation, and she smiled a little before petting his hair. She was well aware of their complicated relationship, although she didn't know the details, but as she watched John and Mary she had a feeling she knew just as much about the brothers' relationship as they did.

* * *

Crowley watched Dean leave the room and whispered to Kevin, "Two plates, he couldn't have been that sick to eat so much."

Kevin didn't move his eyes from his food as he ate, "There's word of a human disease called Rhytonictaltis that causes high metabolism, agitation, emotional distance, a lower immunity to sickness, and an easy temper."

"Sounds like a wives tale."

"It's a chemical imbalance within the body and brain. He could've had that."

"No possible way. He's hiding something, Tran."

"And I think you're off your rocker."

"Let's get back to our posts."

"You want to spy on him?"

"Yes."

"Weirdo."

"Come on, Tran, let's go." Crowley stood, striding quickly out of the kitchen.

"It's Kevin, not Tran. Kevin." he muttered, looking over to the Winchesters, "I apologize for the disturbance on his behalf."

On that note, he walked quickly, catching up to Crowley as they stood outside the door Dean went into.

* * *

"That's a lot of food." Cas said in bewilderment as Dean set a plate in front of him. "What all is there?"

"That's easy. Bread, beans, and some kind of meat that I hope isn't human."

"It's probably just the 'grown meat' I've been hearing about."

"That was a joke, Cas."

Oh, sorry."

"No big deal." Dean poured the two cups of water and added a tea bag to Castiel's cup.

"Don't you want some tea?"

"It's not really my thing."

"Oh." Cas lowered his eyes, stirring his tea bag around.

"Wipe that damn look off your face, I'll try it, okay?" Dean said with defeat.

He added the tea bag to his cup, swirled it around some and took a sip. He frowned at it, took another sip and pulled out the tea bag. Cas watched quietly, taking a bite of bread.

"It's not as disgusting as it looks, surprisingly."

"So you like it?" Cas smiled, finishing his bread roll.

"Don't push it." he muttered, taking a large bite from the meat on his plate.

They ate in a pleasant silence.

* * *

"Let's play chess again." Castiel suggested as Dean collected the dishes, his last job before taking the long walk home.

"I have to go home, Cas."

"Oh." he cleaned the cups with a washcloth and set them back on the shelf.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Alright." he brightened up a little, smiling.

"Anything you need before I go?"

"Can you go tell Balthazar I want to see him? But wait until the hallway is clear."

"Sure."

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Bye, Cas."

He left the room with all of the dishes, going to Balthazar's room. After relaying the message through the closed door, he headed to the kitchen and rinsed the dishes. Frowning to himself, he realized he left his jacket behind. Going back to Castiel's room, he heard talking. He was about to talk when one of the voices, Balthazar's, began sounding angry.

"I heard a rumor there was a bloody guy walking around downtown with a smile plastered on his face like a drunken loon. That couldn't have been you, right? You know what Michael would do if he found out you were out there doing who knows what!"

"Of course it wasn't me..." Cas lied, his voice hurt by the accusatory tone.

"Sorry... it's just," his voice lowered and Dean placed his ear to the door, struggling to hear.

"Castiel, you're not allowed out there. If anyone knew about... you know... they'd kill you."

"I know, Balthazar, thank you for your concern. Think about what I said."

He made a gruff noise of confirmation and Dean hurried halfway down the hall and walked slowly as Balthazar exited the room. Dean made a weak smile before knocking on Castiel's door. He opened the door, handing him the jacket with a smile.

"I'm guessing you wanted this."

"Thanks, Cas."

"Anytime." his smile seemed to wobble.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Dean." He closed the door and Dean joined his family walking down the driveway and spared a look to Castiel's window where the curtain fluttered, just a little.

"He's the one who saved my life. He has to be." Cas whispered, staring at Dean.

Dean turned and Cas let the curtain go, "He can't know he saved me. He just can't."


	9. In Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, why are you here?"
> 
> "You know why I'm here."
> 
> "Now, why would you seek me out again, after what happened last time? I heard my little friend left you choking on your own blood. I heard you didn't even leave the scene til early the next morning."
> 
> "No matter what you did to me, I needed to find you. I needed to get this straightened out. This is important to me."

Halfway back to the house, Sam hung back and whispered, "So... what do you think of him?"

"Want to braid your hair first or mine?" Dean muttered sarcastically.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I'm being serious, I need to be reassured you can get along with the guy."

Dean thought for a second before nodding, "I'll be alright. He's a bit spazzy but he seems like an alright kid."

"You mean, you  _talked_  to him? Like... a legitimate, two-sided conversation?" he asked in disbelief.

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, scowling, "Yeah, so what?"

"You hate angels, because of..." he saw the pained look on Dean's face and stopped, "well, you don't talk to them is all."

Dean hung behind with Sam as everyone else walked inside the house, "I can deal with everyone else calling me a freak, Sammy, but I cannot take you calling me a hypocrite to my face."

"I didn't say that, Dean." Sam frowned, offended.

"You didn't have to." Dean walked around him and into the house, hanging up his clothes, going up to his room and locking the door.

Closing his eyes, he thought of Castiel and how he touched everything so gently. How he pinched chess pieces between his thumb and forefinger, moving to slowly, always making the smallest clink againt the glass board. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he could imagine Castiel's eyebrows furrowed in thought, calm and collected. Opening his eyes, he could see Castiel smile and a small smile came on his own face and he laughed to himself under his breath.

"Winged dork." he says with a small smile, leaning his forearm on the top of the window frame.

There he stood, watching the mansion on the hill. As the sun dissapeared he saw all the lights go out. All except one little flicker that he could've swore came from Castiel's room.

"Goodnight, Cas." he said to himself, crawling into his bed.

* * *

Staring out the window, Castiel watched all the houses prepare for bed, lights turning on and off until they were all dark. Once he heard Michael go to sleep, he slipped quietly from his room and headed out the back door. The wind blew crisp against his face; turning up the collar of his coat, he ran quickly towards the center of town.

Realizing his mistake, he willed his wings hidden and skirted the lamplit streets, hoping to find what he was looking for. Once he found the building, he knocked twice before the door was open, urging him inside. He shrugged off his coat, wings still hidden and sat across from a silhouette with a grin, radiating malicious intent.

"So, why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here."

"Now, why would you seek me out again, after what happened last time? I heard my little friend left you choking on your own blood. I heard you didn't even leave the scene til early the next morning."

"No matter what you did to me, I needed to find you. I needed to get this straightened out. This is important to me."

"Your priorities have always astounded me, little Castiel."

"Don't call me that."

"I heard Michael keeps you trapped in a little birdy cage, unable to let anyone lay eyes on his freakish baby brother, too ashamed to claim you as kin."

" Michael cares about me!"

"Does he tell you that every time you remember how he used to beat you and Balthazar to a bloody pulp as kids, or does he tell you that after he reads you bedtime stories?"

"Do not speak that way about him, you have no right!"

"I have  ** _EVERY RIGHT, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE TWERP_**!" the voice bellowed, making the metal-plate walls of the small shed quiver.

"I'm leaving." Castiel stood, slamming the chair back under the table.

"Then I guess you don't care about his fate."

"I can handle it by myself."

"Good luck with that, Castiel."

"I don't need your luck."

In Castiel's unbridled anger, his wings appeared and they looked at him in disgust, "Put those disgusting things away."

He hid them again, "I don't need to hear that from you."

Pulling his jacket on, he stormed out, running back to the mansion. By the time he reached the house, it'd be a couple hours until daylight. His lack of sleep was suffering due to these late night searches, but now that he realized it's worthlessness, he pushed himself to run faster.

* * *

Breathing shallowly and in spurts, he reached the door, quietly slipped inside and into his room. Taking off his clothes and changing into silk pajama pants, he climbed into bed, closing the drapes around the bedposts, and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts betrayed him as he thought of Dean Winchester, remembering how he gave a complete stranger CPR, saving his life. He remembered how his blood coated Dean's lips and he wanted to vomit.

He wished Dean wasn't who saved him, he wished he'd never find out it was him, and he wished more than anything to feel the calloused hands against his face again. Worried, no, but stroking his face like he had been when he was seeing if Castiel was breathing. Pulling a pillow to his chest, he stared blankly through the sheer curtain surrounding his bed. Soon, he felt his eyelids close and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Once morning cracked over the horizon, Crowley was arriving at the house with Kevin in tow, yawning quietly. Once they got inside, more than a little early, Kevin frowned in confusion.

"Wait a second, you dragged me out of bed for your crackpot theory, again?"

Crowley smiled, not at all offended, "Oh, come now, aren't you curious about what that self-righteous prick is hiding?"

"Of course I am, but I'm not willing to risk my career over it."

"It's a job, not a career, we were chosen; it's not like we had a choice in the matter."

Kevin rolled his eyes, rubbing the sleep from his eye with his index finger, "Details, details."

They arrived at Castiel's door and Crowley pressed his ear to the door, mouthing "he's snoring" and slowly opening the door. Once they stepped inside and closed the door, Castiel shot up in bed.

"Dean? You're early."

"Not Dean, sweetheart." Crowley said with a smile, "What's your name and why are you such a big secret?"

The door opened again and Crowley felt a knife against his throat, "Oh, Dean nice of you to join the party."

Castiel made sure his wings were hidden, jumping out of bed and out of the canopy bed, "Dean, don't."

Kevin blinked in surprise, "You..."

Castiel shook his head, "You three should leave. My brother will visit me today and you can't be here when that happens. Dean, work with Sam today, I'll see you tomorrow."

Dean nodded, taking the knife from Crowley's neck and walking behind them as they all went into the kitchen. They all sat around a corner table and there was a silence until Kevin spoke up.

"We three need to keep our mouths shut, got it?"

"Planning on it."

"I'll do my best."

"Stop looking at me like that, squirrel."

" Then stop breathing."

"Rude, much?" Crowley grinned, pouring them all a cup of coffee. "Let's all be friends."

Dean nodded, "Sounds doable. Since we're all being honest here... why were you so nosy about Cas?"


	10. Forgotten Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Castiel, come now, boy. We just want to find you... you wouldn't want to make me cry, would you, Cassie, dear?' Lucifer said with a laugh, slinking his way up the stairs.
> 
> Scoffing inwardly, Castiel scolded his brothers for announcing where they were. He could easily run and find a new spot if they did that, announcing their position everywhere they went. Suddenly, everything went dead silent and Castiel chewed his lip in anticipation. His brothers never just left him alone to hide, they would voice their surrender and he would win. Another voice joined the mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story keeps surprising me as I write it. I'm still figuring out some background things that I will reveal as I figure them out. Thank you for your patience.

Crowley scoffed between an obnoxious group of laughs, "No reason at all. I just don't like things being hidden from me."

"You're probably no fun at hide and seek, then."

Crowley seemed dulled by the comment, "I'm actually extremely fun at the game. I always win."

"Yeah, he searches until they give up, or he threatens their lives." Kevin muttered, rubbing his thumb across the gold button on his cuff.

"That doesn't sound fun at all, what's hide and seek?" Castiel asks, Kevin and Crowley seem surprised, but it only makes Dean's frown deepen.

"It's where you hide somewhere so the person and find you and if you're found you lose." Dean interjects.

Castiel stares at the table, silently, his eyes losing focus on the world around him as a memory trickled into the forefront of his thoughts.

_6-year-old Castiel remembered counting, slowly, with his brother Gabriel (who he heard shouting the countdown from 100 all the way upstairs) and he remembered hiding in the top of a closet, pressing himself against the wall. Giggling silently, he heard his brother yell something along the lines of 'You better have found good hiding spots this time you wimps!'_

_Rolling his eyes, Castiel waited for his brothers to find him. He heard a string of curses from Lucifer who had, yet again, chose the same spot he always did. The idea always made Castiel laugh because he knew that Lucifer didn't want to be found, but deep down he loved to search more than hiding. Castiel was the one who was best at hiding, being so small and agile gave him advantage over his older brothers._

_'Castiel, come now, boy. We just want to find you... you wouldn't want to make me cry, would you, Cassie, dear?' Lucifer said with a laugh, slinking his way up the stairs._

_Scoffing inwardly, Castiel scolded his brothers for announcing where they were. He could easily run and find a new spot if they did that, announcing their position everywhere they went. Suddenly, everything went dead silent and Castiel chewed his lip in anticipation. His brothers never just left him alone to hide, they would voice their surrender and he would win. Another voice joined the mix._

_'Wow, I guess there is a first time for everything. You caught me boys, great job.' Balthazar muttered, unenthusiastic, always despising the game but playing it every time Castiel asked him to._

_Castiel took a small breath of relief at the breaking of silence, no longer worried that something terrible had happened. A disgruntled yell from a nearby room sent the boys skittering downstairs, falling over themselves to run from the sound. Balthazar ran at the front of the group, Raphael tripped clumsily behind, Lucifer and Gabriel were trying to trip each other to run, Castiel could hear it, practically see it from the darkness of the closet._

_Footsteps sounded softly then stopped in front of the door. Castiel held his breath as he watched the knob turn slowly, opening before a hand grabbed onto his ankle. Yanking him down, Castiel hit the back of his head on the shelf, crying quietly in pain as Michael shushed him. Picking him up by his ankle, Castiel hung upside down as his eldest brother, of age 19, drug him down the stairs; Castiel's head hit every step and he eventually blacked out._

_No one talked about when Michael found Castiel, or all those times Michael gave him bruises. Sometimes, Castiel wondered if his brother had meant it out of meanness, or if it really was- as Michael had always told him- a way to toughen him up for the harsh world they lived in._ _Something had changed in Michael once he took one of the cities as his own and became the main leader of The Three Cities, he became distant and no longer raised a hand to Castiel or Balthazar. He stayed clear of them, for which one brother was grateful, and for which the other mourned. Castiel loved his half-brothers and brother, despite their faults; the only one who never accepted the two Novak boys was Michael. Castiel could still hear Michael yelling at him, telling him to follow his orders, and how once Castiel would agree immediately between sobs._

_'Of course, Michael, I'll mind. I promise! I promise!' the last kick smarting his cheek, as Michael walked away he whispered, 'Happy 13th birthday.'_

Hearing Dean clear his throat, Castiel looked up and felt the awkward silence as Dean watched Kevin stand, tugging Crowley up with him.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Dean, Castiel; I think it's time Crowley and I head to our posts before the guests arrive." Kevin was formal, polite, removing his hat before bowing and taking his leave, replacing the cap on his head.

Standing, Crowley smoothed out the front of his black uniform jacket, fastening the buttons with the SP logo on it. Dean took the uniform to consideration the first time. The uniform was plain, simple, and had multiple high-dome buttons down the front and on the cuffs, almost a carbon copy of World War 1 soldiers' unifroms. Crowley adjusted his cap, smoothed out his trousers, stood straight, gave a familiar smile.

"Wait, guests?" Dean asks as Crowley pushes in his chair, his smile fading.

"The leaders of the neighboring cities have come to visit. They are going to have an important meeting with Michael today."

Dean opened his mouth to ask why but Castiel's lips were scrunched together and his eyes sad, noticing this Dean kept the thought to himself.

"Nevermind. Just get out of here before the head honcho gets suspicious."

"Oi, mon capitaine." Crowley saluted with a sarcastic air, pushing Kevin out of the door, following close behind.

Dean, noting the faraway look in Castiel's eyes, he reached out his hand, "Cas..?"

Once the hand had touched his forehead, Castiel immediately looked at Dean, "Yes?"

"I should stay with you today. I don't think I should work with my brother."

"Dean..."

"Dammit, Cas, I'm worried about you and I'm not leaving you here by yourself!"

Castiel managed a smile before nodding, "Alright... I'll go to sleep, then, they woke me up."

Following Cas to his bed, he watched him climb in gingerly and pulling the covers under his arm, "Good morning, Dean." he muttered around a yawn.

"...'morning, Cas." Dean smiled, watching Castiel slowly fall asleep.

Castiel prayed his nightmares wouldn't return for the time being, because- more than anything- he didn't want Dean to see him cry.


	11. Three Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel liked how Dean comfortable was around him, and how they could talk so openly.   
> Sitting at the chair across the table, Castiel took the book from Dean and placed it on the table.
> 
> "Would you like me to teach you?"
> 
> "Teach me what?" Dean asked.
> 
> "The history of the world."

An hour later, Cas woke up, finding Dean sitting in one of the chairs reading a book Castiel immediately recognized.

"Is that entertaining? The book?" Castiel asked, stepping toward his closet and retrieving a dress shirt and dress pants before putting them on behind a paper screen.

"This... communism thing. It sounds a hell of a lot like how it is down there."

"Where you live?"

"Yeah."

"It's an interesting subject, I think. It requires everyone to work together equally to function."

"I guess so." Dean thought, glancing up at Castiel.

Castiel liked how Dean comfortable was around him, and how they could talk so openly. Sitting at the chair across the table, Castiel took the book from Dean and placed it on the table.

"Would you like me to teach you?"

"Teach me what?"

"The history of the world."

"They taught us all the world wars in school, the domestic wars too."

Castiel wanted to tell someone what he knew, what he'd been told, what he'd found in books. He wanted someone to hear him.

"Did you ever learn about the War of ZEZ?"

"What the hell is that?"

"It's Enochian for Fiery Angels, Enochian is the language of my... kind."

Dean shook his head, realizing the irony of what he was about to say, "Only angels are allowed to know."

"What if I told you? Would you like me to?"

"Yeah, that'd be cool."

"But we must keep it between us." Dean nodded, as Castiel leaned forward and brushed his lips against Dean's.

"What was that for?" Dean laughed, flustered.

"I read in a book once you 'must seal deals with a kiss'." he said stoically.

"I think that only applies to deals with bad intentions."

"Well, me telling you  _is_ illegal but I trust you with my life."

Dean smiled, "Really?"

Castiel nodded before arranging the chess set to a new game, "Chess first. I can teach you about ZEZ during lunch."

It made Dean smile, reaching his hand over and ruffling the boy's hair who smiled up at him. Dean would never admit it out loud but he really wanted to make another deal with Castiel.

...

Once they'd gotten about halfway through the game of chess, Sam poked his head in and grinned at the two.

"Hey, guys. Glad to see you two getting along, and are you guys playing Chess?" Sam cocked his eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yes, Sam. Your brother is actually not that bad at it." Cas noted, looking up after moving his rook.

"He says as he kicks my ass." Dean grumbled.

Sam laughed, rolling his eyes, "Bye guys." and left the doorway.

Dean looked up at Cas, who's eyes were still locked on the doorway, "Talk to me, Cas."

"About what, Dean?" his eyes still glued to the doorknob, as if waiting for it to turn.

"How about the talk with Balthazar yesterday? What the hell is going on? Why aren't you allowed to leave your room?"

Castiel's heart pounded in his chest, choking on the air entering his lungs, his eyes widening in fear as he stared at the chessboard.

"What did you hear?"

"Cas-"

Before Dean could finish, Castiel's fists were gripping Dean's t-shirt, pushing him into the wall behind him and knocking the chair over.

"Cas!"

"I SAID WHAT DID YOU HEAR?!"

"Quiet down, Cas. One of the other servants will hear." Dean chided, shaking a little bit, the hatred in Castiel's eyes causing him to be frozen in shock.

"Dean..." Castiel's voice sounded broken now, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Tell me, Dean, please just tell me."

"Not a lot. I only heard Balthazar tell you you couldn't leave and that if anyone knew about something then you would die." Dean leaned into the wall, putting his hand over Castiel's. "Let me go, Cas. Tell me what's wrong."

Castiel searched Dean's eyes, and upon finding no deceit, he let go of Dean and slid to the floor. "That's all you heard?"

"Yes, Cas, I swear. That's all I heard. I only heard because he was yelling."

Castiel leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees, "I'm sorry I did that to you, Dean."

"You were scared, Cas. Of what, I don't know, but maybe one day you'll trust me enough to tell me."

His eyes shot up, blue and happy because Dean didn't know. Dean didn't know how much of a freak he was. Dean didn't know that he was the one who was saved by his kindness. Dean didn't know about his brothers and he wouldn't ever know them. Dean's heart, as shriveled up as it had seemed to be sometimes, bled for Castiel and whatever inner turmoil he was going through. Reaching out, Dean hugged Castiel and felt him go rigid against him.

"Hug me back, cry, do whatever, just please don't shut me out, Cas. Whether or not you know it, you need me right now, Cas and I'm not going to let go until you can give me one of your dorky little smiles and tell me one of those weird, random facts you always pull out of nowhere."

"In 1567, a man- who supposedly had longest beard in the world- died after he tripped over his beard, running away from a fire." Cas sniffed a little, looking up at Dean.

Dean burst into a fit of giggles, covering his eyes, his cheeks pink "Wow, talk about a bad hair day."

"That's a good pun, Dean." Cas smiled a little, amused.

"Thanks, because I thought it was terrible."

"I like your humor Dean, it's much better than Sam's."

"Well I'd hope so considering he's barely past puberty."

"Isn't puberty when a man's-"

Dean flushed a bit, cutting him off, "Yeah. That's it, Cas, let's change the subject. How about-"

The door swung open, two figures walking in and closing the door before the taller of the two choked out a laugh and the shorter one got a sly smirk on his face.

"Bad time?"

"No, not at all. Lucifer. Gabriel. So nice to see you two."

Castiel stood to greet him and Gabriel gave him a one-armed hug as Lucifer ruffled his hair.

"Good to see you too, little brother." Lucifer smiled mildly.

"Who's that guy in the corner? The new manslave?"

"Servant." Castiel corrected.

Dean stood, eyes locked on the three of them as he dusted off the legs of his jeans, "Little brother? That means-"

"Michael is my brother, yes. So is Balthazar."

Dean immediately felt a migraine galloping over the horizon, "I'm gonna need a beer."


	12. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What doesn't he know and who is he, what happened to that Sam kid?"
> 
> "Dean is his brother. He has been a sickly child and just regained enough strength to serve."
> 
> "Be careful with this kid. He seems nice enough to you but you have a tendency to see the good in people, and because of that you ignore all the bad things about them. "

Castiel gave Dean a look of confusion. Dean lowered himself back into the chair where they'd been playing chess. Gabriel shot Castiel a look of disbelief.

"You mean he didn't know?"

"No." Castiel remarked, giving a look to Lucifer and Gabriel that said 'And that's not all he doesn't know, tread lightly before you say something else he shouldn't know.'

Lucifer sat across from Dean, "Wow, you're pretty bad at this game, aren't you, champ? Poor Cassie is going easy on you."

"He still beats me."

"Good, wouldn't want to get your hopes too high."

Castiel gave a look of exasperation and let out a heavy sigh. Dean knew about his brothers now. Gabriel nudged Castiel over to the window where he whispered, "Now that he's distracted, spill it. What doesn't he know and who is he?"

"His name is Dean Winchester, he is 18, an Aquarius, he likes long walks on the beach-"

"I mean what happened to that Sam kid?"

"Dean is his brother. He has been a sickly child and just regained enough strength to serve. He wants to serve Michael but I am the 'guinea pig' to see if he is qualified."

"Why did you air-quote guinea pig?"

"It's a-"

"Don't care. Anyway, be careful with this kid. He seems nice enough to you but you have a tendency to see the good in people, and because of that you ignore all the bad things about them. See both sides of him, okay, Ficklefeathers?"

"I am  _not_ fickle."

"What's your favorite animal?"

"That's cheating."

"No it's not, it's easy for me. Giraffes."

"They don't exist anymore."

"Neither does civil interaction in this family but you don't hear me complaining."

Dean looked up watching the two brothers muttering to themselves and he rolled his eyes as Lucifer moved a rook into an offensive position.

"That's the second rook. Why did you move both back to back?"

"That, my friend, is a secret."

"So you and Cas, you guys are really brothers?"

"Half-brothers, actually. Balthazar is his true brother. The rest of us are his half-brothers."

"You make that sound like a terrible thing."

"In a way, it is." Lucifer said solemnly, watching Dean move his knight into offense. "He's the best brother anyone could ask for."

"Why isn't he allowed to leave the manor?"

"You really cut to the chase, don't you, Blondie?"

"Answer my question."

"Ask Castiel."

"He won't tell me."

"Then he isn't ready to tell."

"I don't plan to force it out of him but it's really bothering me. Balthazar seemed really mad."

"Mad about what?"

Dean bit his tongue, what part of 'mum's the word' did he  _not get._ "Nothing, Balthazar was mad because I suddenly got my brother's post without warning."

Lucifer gave him a skeptical look, "So he snuck out again. It's pretty common knowledge, everyone knew from the very beginning except for Michael and- yeah."

"I heard an 'and' in there, Lucifer."

"No you didn't, and you will not ask Castiel because if you hurt him I swear I will strangle the life out of you."

Gabriel clicked his tongue, looking at Lucifer, "Come on, Royal Pain, we have to go meet his highness of bitchiness."

Lucifer left the game, following behind Gabriel out the door and Castiel locked the door once they left. Sitting across from Dean, he stared in disbelief at the pieces that Lucifer had moved. Dean cleared his throat, Castiel still staring intently at the black chess pieces.

"Cas, look, I get it. You want to keep me at arms length, and I don't blame you but I want to be friends. If you don't let me in, we can't truly be friends."

His shoulders hunched and he frowned, "Not today, Dean. I have a lot going on."

Dean nodded, "I get it. You and Balthazar are the black sheep of the family. I am in mine. All I'm saying is try not to let yourself think I don't know where you're coming from." Standing, he couldn't stand the silence anymore, "I'll be back with lunch, teach me about that war okay?"

"Sure, Dean."

Dean took off his trenchcoat, set it on the bedpost and headed to the kitchen where he knew everyone had already started eating lunch. Scratching the sore spot where the wing was being hidden, he tried to fight the itch it gave him. Upon walking into the kitchen, he sat next to Crowley and Kevin, ignoring his family entirely.

"Hey, Squirrel, what's got you all jazzed?"

"He's not telling me something."

"Everyone has a right to privacy, especially since you've only known each other two days." Kevin muttered, a fork dangling from his mouth as he sopped up gravy with his bread.

"I get that but I'm worried. Something's really wrong with this picture."

"We'll keep an eye out, if you'd like." Crowley clicked his tongue, "We see more than you."

"I'd appreciate it." Dean walked away to stock up and walk back.

Kevin pursed his lips, "Why'd you say that?"

"Help him and, in turn, helping myself. That birdbrain leader of our little utopia is up to something."

"Exactly why we shouldn't interfere. Especially with the other two city leaders, his brothers, visiting."

Crowley gave the kid a hard smack on the back, "I think I heard a maybe."

"It's a no."

"So it's a hazy definitely. Good. I'll pack the lunch."

"You're on drugs." Kevin exhaled in exasperation.

"If only." Crowley laughed, "Come on, let's go back to our posts. Surely the meeting is over by now."

They entered the meeting room immediately after knocking once, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Micheal each getting their own side of the square table. The door shut itself behind them, heavy and foreboding.

"Any news?" Kevin asked and Michael rose to address them.

"What do you think of the new servant? Dean Winchester?"

"Seemed like a fine kid to me, he minded and never talked back to me."

Michael smiled, "Good. Please return to your posts outside the door, my brothers and I have personal matters to discuss."

Reluctantly, Crowley and Kevin left the three alone, only able to hear a single phrase, muffled through the door in Michael's voice.

"Brothers, I am proud to be the one to tell you that Babalon has returned to us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this one turning out to be almost entirely dialogue, but yeah it just ended up that way.


	13. Controlled Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " 'Appreciation should only be shown to those who deserve it', you've said it countless times, Michael! Metatron does not deserve any thanks!"
> 
> "Do not disrespect our father!"
> 
> "I only care for that pig because he's the reason why Castiel and I are alive. That is the only reason. Don't bring him here. If you do, I'll kill him myself as well as that whore mother of yours who made my mother sick."
> 
> "You'd better watch your mouth."

"Babalon... like... our mother, Babalon?" Gabriel asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, gooseflesh rising on his skin.

"Yes, that seems to be the case."

"Micheal, don't tell me you're going to welcome that woman with open arms," Lucifer growled, leaning across the table towards him.

"She is our mother."

"The hell she is!" Gabriel exclaimed, "She abandoned us, left us with our sociopath father, never to be heard from again!"

"Our father is also with her," Michael muttered, rising to stare thoughtfully out of the window.

"This is insane..." Lucifer sighed, his head in his hands.

A silence ensued, lingering on until there was a knock on the door and a quick entrance and a slam of the door. Balthazar gave a wobbly smile before leaning uncomfortably against the wall, watching.

"Balthazar." Gabriel acknowledged, casting him a sideways glance before going back to glaring daggers at Michael. "Michael, here, decided that we should go speak to Babalon since she's in town with our father."

"I don't believe you. You, Michael, of all people know how bad of an idea that is."

"I'm not so sure. Our father gave Lucifer, Gabriel, and I the land we now control and since he has returned we should show him a little gratitude, if only to be polite." Michael's eyes narrowed in disbelief, lowering his voice as if speaking to a child.

" 'Appreciation should only be shown to those who deserve it', you've said it countless times, Michael! Metatron does not deserve any thanks!"

"Do not disrespect our father!"

"I only care for that pig because he's the reason why Castiel and I are alive. That is the only reason. Don't bring him here. If you do, I'll kill him myself as well as that whore mother of yours who made my mother sick."

"She only got sick because of a dirty needle."

"A needle that your mother plunged into her throat, but what else is to be expected of The Whore of Arya!"

"You'd better watch your mouth."

"You have no control over me anymore. You haven't had control since I knocked you on your ass ten years ago." Balthazar's voice hadn't wavered, although the emotion was thick and palpable as the comment slunk from his throat.

"Get out," Michael warned.

"What are you going to do? Call your little police boys?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing." Michael said with a wry smile, Gabriel and Lucifer watching the two with widened eyes. "Guards!"

Kevin and Crowley entered slowly, frowning. Balthazar raised his hand a bit, showing he was going to cooperate. "How about you boys escort me to my room? I believe I should take a nap."

They nodded and led him out, closing the door behind them. The room fell silent, Gabriel and Lucifer forcing themselves to sit straight as they seethed. Michael was out of line. Balthazar may have been their half-brother because their father had an affair but they were still family. Michael could never accept that their angel father cheated on their angel mother with a human. Michael knew that his mother did sleep around and so did his father, their marriage had simply been a business arrangement, but his father had gotten caught twice with the same woman- who had his children.

"You kept pushing," Lucifer directed to Michael. "He even brought up his mother's death. It was our mother's fault and you know it, so why do you treat him like that?"

"I don't care if it is, I won't have him think he can disrespect anyone he wants. This is my city and he will abide by my rules."

"You're acting like a goddamned child!" Gabriel interrupted, furious.

"Well, what if I am? I don't see you doing anything to spit in my face, you're just as spineless as Balthazar!" Michael's lip curled and twitched in anger before he took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and regained his composure. "You may be dismissed to your guest rooms."

"We're not through here," Lucifer chided.

"It's almost time for dinner. Go take a nap and I'll send for you once the food is finished."

"Will Castiel and Balthazar be dining with us?"

"I don't see why not," Michael sighed. "I'll tell Castiel's servant to stay behind and serve us after the cooks have finished so they may leave."

"Not even the cooks know about Castiel?" Gabriel asked, shocked.

"Not even the cooks. Neither does my guards, or any of the other servants. The only ones in this entire mansion who know are us three and the three Winchester boys."

"Speaking of Adam," Lucifer asked. "How are his studies coming along?"

"Quite well, I assume, although he does have a problem with paying attention sometimes. Once his studies are finished in a few months, he'll have a job at the ration card distribution plant as a regulator. He'll create formulas to figure out how many ration cards for each service and product are needed per month."

"Are all the machines working well?" Gabriel asked absently, wishing he'd taken up on the offer to take a nap before his brother started yapping again.

"Wonderfully. The black market also seems to be working pretty well too, I'm glad I came up with the idea. It's too bad though that they'll never know it was my idea."

"You control your own black market?" Gabriel asked, crossing his arms in surprise.

"Why? It's not like it's difficult."

Lucifer frowned, "Working your own black market, even if you have the ability is way too much control, we're practically royalty anyway. Other angels with pure blood work management or overview and we sit in our pretty mansions on our asses and do nothing."

"Nothing?" Michael scoffed offensively, "We keep this giant machine of society working! Without us, this world would fall to chaos. You boys remember the war stories. We do not want a repeat of that madness, now, do we?"

Gabriel sighed, "I'm going to sleep. Wake me for dinner. Let me know if I get any word from my student."

Michael nodded, Lucifer following behind Gabriel out of the door and into the guest wing. They passed Balthazar and Castiel's rooms before they reached theirs at the end of the hall.

"I hope you get word from your student."

"His name is Jeremiah."

"Yes, Jeremiah."

"By the way, you've never mentioned having a student of your own."

"I actually have two. Very pretty girls. They're both named Charlie."

"How interesting," Gabriel laughed softly. "How do you tell them apart?"

"One has red hair and the other is a blonde. It's funny though, they may or may not actually be in a relationship together."

"So you get twice the action, then?" Gabriel joked.

"Rest well," Lucifer muttered sarcastically, but with a smile, ending the subject.

"You too."

They entered in their rooms across the hall from each other and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie (the blonde one) is from the episode about Bloody Mary in season 1. Also, really sorry for not updating sooner, I don't have much excuse this time other than lack of inspiration. Anyway, review please, they are what keep me going. This story has a long way to go and unless you guys want a terrible, rushed ending, it would help if you continued giving me the support I need to keep writing.
> 
> Thanks.
> 
> ~deathbyinsomnia
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. If you haven't already, check out the side-story 'The Prodigal Son' about Jeremiah because it will be relevant by the next chapter or so.


	14. Abbadon's Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley lowered his voice as he whispered to Kevin, "Those two are bad news. Surely they know that?"
> 
> "Of course they do, you idiot, but they're family and they are forced to respect that."

Once Crowley and Kevin escorted Lucifer and Gabriel to their rooms, their eyes were wide in disbelief. Everyone had heard of Abbadon, The Whore of Babalon- as her subjects affectionately called her. They heard the stories of how things truly were before her marriage to Metatron. The stories that had once been fact, back when the land of Arya was split in half. The teenage Princess Abbadon, of the kingdom Babalon, joined the knights of her army and killed for sport.

She would invite young men into the palace, and once entranced by her beauty would be bedded, and they would all die after she'd finished toying with them. She had killed dozens of boys in her kingdom, her mother uncaring of the damage caused to the morale of the state. The uprising came one morning at sunrise, the end was sudden and expected- the ruler of the kingdom Constantine arrived at the door with a proposition. In return for a settling of the uprising, he would gain control of Babalon and have the future queen's hand in marriage. Lilith, the current queen of Babalon, agreed and the pact was formed.

Within hours, Metatron's army had warded away the people of the kingdom into the town square. There, he gave a mighty speech of the news of unifying the countries. Everyone cheered, for they thought the marriage between King Metatron and the soon-to-be-queen Abbadon would soften them and make them more concerned for their people, but nothing changed. Babbalon and Constantine became Arya and a new breed of brutality was born. All jobs were exterminated and everyone was sent home except for those who served Lilith, Abaddon, and Metatron. For a week, the three of them- a King, a Queen, and a Knight- sat around the table and decided the fate of their lands.

All three agreed that power needed to remain in the Aryan royal bloodline, that only pure-bloods could ascend to power. They also agreed that the humans needed some kind of work, and that the mutts needed a job too, so after a long deliberation of historical study they decided at they would create a government of their own creation. A mixture of all that was needed to have a highly-functioning society of people. They established a type of currency system directly connected to a certain ration. Every family, depending on how many lived in the home, were given an appropriate portion of bread ration cards, meat ration cards (which always came in low amounts), drink ration cards, produce cards, and a very limited supply of dessert rations.

Crowley lowered his voice as he whispered to Kevin, "Those two are bad news. Surely they know that?"

"Of course they do, you idiot, but they're family and they are forced to respect that."

Crowley leaned against a corner by their post, staring out the window at the shopping district below them, filled with wooden shacks and the shops built outside like a bazaar. He watched the small flood of people stop at the shops between the two lines of buildings, now used for keeping inventory and as places for the shop owners and their families to sleep. He watched them look at products that could be payed for with ration cards in various amounts. His eyes followed the street until eventually landing on two shops put together, the black market buildings. Further following the road, he saw the small houses all occupied by those inhabited by servants to the angels. The biggest house of them all, but not by much at all, he recognized the house of the Winchesters.

"I bet the ones down there really know the meaning of family, unlike all of these angels. They weren't conditioned since birth to think 'blood comes first'. They rely on each other and their friends..." Crowley's voice faded out into silence. 

Kevin cleared his throat, "There you go again, acting like you aren't half angel." 

"Just because my mother was an angel and my father was human, just because there was a possibility I'd get those blasted wings, doesn't make me half angel. Do you see wings on our backs? We are not angels. We are just given a position to fit our damned DNA." 

"If Michael knew you were talking like that, you wouldn't have to worry about having this job anymore." 

Crowley sighed and moved his eyes from the window, "You're right, yet again. I always knew you were the smart one." 

"Good thing too, otherwise you would have lost your ranking by now." 

"Ranking, shmanking. I've held my own even before you came here, rookie." 

"Hey, Crowley?" Crowley looked at Kevin, who suddenly seemed grim, "My birthday is soon." 

"You thought I forgot, didn't you? What kind of guy do you think I am?" Crowley looked genuinely offended, "On your birthday it'll also be the celebration of your first year here and I even got you a gift. Why do you think so lowly of me?" 

"You wouldn't want me to answer that." 

"Actually, I do. Spit it out." 

After a long pause, he spat his words out, staring up angrily at him. "Your affair with Abbadon, back when she was still Queen, did you think I wouldn't find out?" 

"Oh... that. It meant nothing, just a quick shag," Crowley played off, avoiding Kevin's eyes. 

"Do you seriously expect me to believe that?" 

"It's the truth. She let me in, we did the tango and I left," Crowley watched as Kevin's face seemed to age before his eyes. "Kevin, you're like a son to me, I wouldn't lie to you." 

Kevin heaved a sigh, "So what'd you get me for my birthday?" 

"Your first bottle of spirit." 

"I'm only 13." 

"And I enforce the law, so you're fine." 

A small smile broke across Kevin's face, "You're terrible... let's open it tonight at the dorm and share it with all our bunkmates." 

"That's twenty guys, do you know how hard it was to hide whiskey all this time?" 

"Crowley." 

"Fine, let's make sure the guys in the other occupation dorms don't find out." 

"Yeah, they tend to flock like pidgeons when they hear the word liqour."  Suddenly, there was a resounding bell and they looked at each other with matching grins, "Time to head back home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no Deastiel in is chapter, sorry. Unlike most of my other stories, I actually really care about supporting character's character development so there will be chapters like this sometimes. Also, if you want to draw fan art for this fic, I encourage you to. Please do. I love fan art. You can email it to me (linkinpark50210@gmail.com) and it may show up on this fic (on it's assigned chapter if it's from a certain chapter)! As always, feel free to review if you are confused or have any questions and I'll respond.


	15. Prickly Exterior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want, assface?"
> 
> "You are twelve, you shouldn't use that kind of language."
> 
> "What do you want?"
> 
> "You're being summoned to dinner."
> 
> "...Okay."

All of the servants, cooks, guards and Sam (begrudgingly) included, left the mansion with whispered words of suspicion under their breath. Dean, as he had been told by Crowley before he left, woke up Lucifer, Gabriel, and Balthazar without a second thought as he walked in the room unannounced. However, his palm froze on Adam's door.

They hadn't spoken in years and last time they did, they weren't on the best of terms. Sucking in a huge breath through his teeth, he knocked three times at the door. There was silence, then small noises and shoes walking to the door, only to be opened by Adam and his pudgy frown on his face, dark circles under his eyes and dressed in a loose shirt and drawstring pants.

"What do you want, assface?"

"You are twelve, you shouldn't use that kind of language."

"Dad says you were worse at my age," his snipes back, "now what do you want?"

"You're being summoned to dinner."

He lets out a breath, furrows his eyebrows, and leans against the doorframe. "Now why is that?"

"Family matters," he barks out distastefully, "Hurry up, I have to serve the dinner."

Adam took in a shaky breath through his nose and nodded, closing the door. Dean walked slowly until he reached Michael's door. He raised his hand to knock but Michael, himself, opened the door and invited him into his bedroom. The walls were cream-colored and lavishly decorated with antique mirrors, paintings, and furniture.

"You're probably wondering why you're serving the dinner."

"It's because I'm the only one who knows about Cas."

"Castiel," he said pointedly, as if chiding him for giving the young Novak a nickname, "can not be discovered by anyone else and since you are his servant, you are responsible for making sure that he is there on time and in appropriate attire."

"Define appropriate." Dean had meant to sound coy, but ending up sounding disrespectful.

"Semi-casual to formal, depending on the clothes he owns."

"If he cannot leave his room, how does he get new clothes?" Dean asked, peaking over Michael's shoulder at the town below.

"I believe Balthazar gets them. You ask a lot of questions."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Would it matter since you answered my comment with yet another question?"

"You just asked a question too."

Michael's eyebrow twitched, just a little. "I'll be in the dining room in 10 minutes, he'd better be there and seated before I arrive." Dean nodded, walking towards the door. "Dean?" Dean looked over his shoulder. "Don't serve the food until I arrive."

"Yeah, okay."

"Yes?" Michael asked expectantly.

"Yes... Your Grace." Dean had corrected himself through gritted teeth,giving a quick bow before shutting the door behind him and heading to Castiel's room.

...

Castiel greeted him with a look of confusion, "You're... still here?"

"Yeah, Cas... seems you're having dinner with the feather family."

"Do you mean my brothers?"

"Yeah," he said with obvious distaste, grabbing a dress shirt and dress pants from Castiel's closet, tossing the clothes at him so he can get dressed. "And Adam." Castiel changed pants quickly, pausing a brief moment once he heard the twinge when Dean said his Adam's name.

"Adam Winchester, that angel apprentice of Michael's, isn't he your half-brother?" He asked as nonchalantly as he could, sitting on the edge of his bed, unbuttoning his night shirt and folding it neatly beside him before putting on the dress shirt.

"He's my brother, yeah..." Dean's eyes settled on Castiel, before a weak laugh fell from his mouth. "You've never learned how to tie this properly..." Walking over to him, he bent forward slightly, untying Castiel's necktie and putting it around his own neck. "Now you watch this close, Apeman, 'cause I'll only show you once."

"Apeman?"

"It's what the angels, uh..." he paused, looking up from tying the necktie to make sure Castiel was watching. Seeing that he was, he continued, "It's what the angels call us humans." Dean felt a lump in his throat every time he considered himself human. It seemed so... wrong to him. Like he was putting himself on a pedestal- as low as it was on the social food chain- that he didn't deserve. Castiel saw Dean's expression darken for a moment before it went void of emotion and a plastered smile appeared on his face as he removed the tie from his neck and adjusted it under Castiel's collar. "You look great," Dean commented, "but you have the baddest case of permanent bed-head that I've ever seen."

"Worst case of bed-head," Castiel commented, "baddest isn't the appropriate term." Dean rolled his eyes, a small smile managing to appear. "Anyhow, will you walk there with me? I've never met Adam and I'm sure he's a nice boy but,"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "He's twelve. He'll be an open book, he's a smart kid though so you guys may bond over history. It's his favorite subject, I think."

Castiel smiled, pulling on a suit jacket, and almost grabbing his hidden trenchcoat until remembering that Dean would instantly recognize it, as well as the blood that had undoubtedly dried onto it. Then he would know... and he'd never want to be around him, since he hates angels so much, Castiel told himself. Castiel was well aware of the sway Dean already had over him and he resented it, but Dean had saved Castiel, a complete stranger, without a second thought- and an angel, no less. It made Castiel yearn to find out what made Dean Winchester tick, to see if he could finally figure out what made humans the way they were. Castiel felt his shoulders rise and fall with his sighs as they made their way to the dining room.

"Damn, Cas, if you sigh any more there won't be any more oxygen for the rest of us."

Castiel awoke from his stupor and smiled apologetically at Dean, "It's just weird... I'll be seen by someone other than my brothers-" he lied.

"And your servant boy." Dean supplied, "It should be alright, though, Adam may be a snot-nosed brat but he's a sweet kid once you get past his prickly exterior."

"Are you talking about a boy or a porcupine?" Castiel muttered, a small smile hiding in the corner of his mouth.

"Holy hell, was that a joke I just heard, Cas? Is the sky falling?" Dean joked, looking in feigned fear all over the ceiling, as if looking for a chandelier to fall on them at any moment.

Castiel gave Dean a sour look before it breaking into a smile as Dean pulled out a chair for him. Scooting it in after him, Dean reassured Castiel he'd be back in a minute with the food the chefs cooked. Castiel waited silently, scratching at the wood of the table.

"So you're Castiel." Adam's voice rang quietly, his white tee and sweatpants too big on him. "I've heard a lot about you... all of it hearsay. So, tell me, who are you really?" He sat down to Castiel's left, at the corner, taking an apple from a bowl in the center of the table and taking a bite. "Just _who_ is Castiel Novak?" he asked with a grin, the crunch of the apple filling the room.


	16. Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So this is Castiel Novak... Is he why you've bestowed me the honor of abandoning the day's studies and freedom to leave my room? To talk about him?" 
> 
> "Yes, this is about Castiel." 
> 
> Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he pushed the cart back into the kitchen. Sure, he noticed that Castiel never left his room and that he never asked to. He also was well aware that he was a secret, but the reason why still confused him. What was so special about him?

Castiel's eyes narrowed in confusion, "Are you Adam?" he asked.

The boy nodded, taking another bite of his apple, "Sure am," He swallowed the bite in his mouth, not missing a beat. "Now, will you answer my question?"

Castiel's wings, hidden and stiff, twitched in fear at the look of morbid curiosity in the young boy's eyes. He licked his lips, leaning forward as his voice rasped. "I don't think I can answer that question."

Castiel had no clue how to answer such a general question, especially since he didn't know much about himself to begin with. He knew he liked history, chess, reading, animals, and the feel of the wind on his face but that's all he really knew. He knew he was different than other angels and how he was different but he didn't understand the significance, why it even mattered. Castiel did not know much more than Dean did. In fact, there were only three things that Dean did not know about him: Castiel was an angel, he was the one Dean had saved in town, and that he secretly wished that Dean would never stop being his friend.

The last wish, as it repeated in his mind, seemed to morph into something more and more like trying to grasp at air with his hands. He knew for a fact that they were destined to be on opposite sides of the fence, so why did he feel the urge to try so hard to touch him through the barbed wire? It would end up hurting them both but Castiel, deep down, couldn't help but feel that Dean was worth suffering for. Castiel was about to inwardly chide himself for, yet again, letting his mind turn his every thought into one of Dean Winchester when Adam gave him a look of frustration.

Adam was tempted to ask if Castiel was ignoring him because he was suffering from brain damage or if he was 'just that stupid' but before he could, the door to the dining room opened with a flourish, Gabriel leading Lucifer and Balthazar into the room, saving Castiel the trouble of making up an excuse about why it was none of Adam's business who he was. He sighed silently in relief because, quite frankly, he had no clue how to answer the question. How does one explain reasoning behind hiding someone from the world like a princess in a tower?

Gabriel took a seat beside Adam, Balthazar sitting on Castiel's other side and Lucifer to his right. Castiel's eyes shifted to the table as his nostrils twitched in anger. He could still feel the boy's eyes on him and he squirmed in his chair. He didn't like being put under a microscope, especially when this person may be hearing it from Michael himself later on. Pinching his lips together, he stood slowly and spoke with an air of finality, "I'll check on the food."

Adam didn't pay much attention, finishing the last bit of his apple with a disgruntled expression. Gabriel flinched slightly in surprise while Lucifer cast a look of an unspoken 'did that really just happen' to Balthazar. Balthazar's eyes were wide with shock, glued to Castiel as he set his shoulders back and walked off into the kitchen, the swinging doors passing back and forth behind him.

Castiel burst into the kitchen, catching himself against the countertop as he exhaled sharply, clenching his eyelids shut. Dean placed his hand gently between Castiel's shoulder blades, causing him to flinch.

"Easy tiger, it's just me."

Castiel's eyes shot open as he turned and looked up at Dean with a grin, "Oh, hello. How's the food coming along?"

Dean's hand massaged small circles, trying not to smile at the red tinting Castiel's cheeks. "It's already prepared, I just left you all to talk."

"Adam is very nosy." Castiel commented, circling his shoulders slightly when Dean moved his hand to lean against the counter behind him.

"That's little brothers, for ya..." Dean didn't miss the cocked eyebrow shot his way. "I hope he didn't make you uncomfortable?"

"He did but, surely, Michael will answer the questions I cannot." A door opened and closed and Michael's voice trailed into the kitchen.

"It'll be fine," Dean reassured him, giving him a winning smile. "I'll bring out the food so go ahead and take a seat, I'll be out soon."

Castiel took a breath through his nose, nodded, and kept his eyes downcast as he went back into the dining room and sat down. Dean came in with a silver cart littered with plates, and had a carefully places apathetic gentleness about him as he set the table with identical plates of food. There was a silence until Adam cleared his throat, "So this is Castiel Novak... Is he why you've bestowed me the honor of abandoning the day's studies and freedom to leave my room? To talk about him?" Adam had meant to sound coy, but he ended up sounding sarcastic and it earned a snarl from Michael.

"Yes, this is about Castiel." Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he pushed the cart back into the kitchen. Sure, he noticed that Castiel never left his room and that he never asked to. He also was well aware that he was a secret, but the reason why still confused him. What was so special about him?

"Dean." Gabriel's voice called, Dean coming back into the dining room. Dean stood at the head of the table, next to Castiel as he scratched the side of his nose, his lip curled. "We need you to wait in Castiel's room, bud. This is family business. One of us will send for you once we've finished talking and after you clean up, you can go home."

Dean set his shoulders, offended but bowed and walked away and towards Castiel's room. He felt his flannel shirt seem to suffocate him, rushing to unbutton it he threw it in the seat of a chair in Castiel's room and tugged off the fitted tee he had on. Slinking into the bathroom beside Castiel's bed, he ran the tap and splashed water on his face.

Calm down, he told himself, you need to calm the fuck down. You're getting too deep, Dean, you're getting too close to Castiel. You won't be able to kill Michael if you're so worried about hurting Castiel. Suddenly, Castiel's smile flashed behind his eyelids and Dean gripped both sides of the sink, pushing himself forward in frustration as all he could think of was how much he wanted to protect Castiel from what he's going to do to Michael.

"It has to be done," he told himself as he looked in the mirror, "I have to take care of Mom, Jess, and Sammy. There has to be more food on the table. Family comes first. Family takes care of family." He could hear his dad's voice as he said it, remembering the day he found out his dad had not only cheated on his mom but was now making them take in an angel toddler because Adam's mother had died. His mom loved Adam just as much as him and Sammy but it always hurt her, he knew that. Every time his dad screwed up, back when he was a drunk, Dean always felt obligated to clean up his messes. He became sober the day they took in Adam, but Dean still felt the echoes of his dad's mistakes.

Dean felt tears rolling down his face, realizing that he was going to lose Castiel if he did this. It was between Castiel and family, and family comes first. "Shit." his voice cracked as he felt himself go slack against the sink. "Shit, shit, shit, shit.." He slammed his fist into the sink, "Son of a bitch!"


	17. Courtesy Lacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I mean, he has a darkness in his eyes that surpasses the normal amount for someone of his age."
> 
> "Now, how do you know that?" Lucifer interrupted, a sly smile on his face. "You barely know the guy."
> 
> "I know enough..."

Michael started eating first, a silent invitation to the others, now permitted to eat due to his approval. "So, Castiel," Balthazar started quietly, "What do you think of your new servant?"

"Very considerate, loyal, and seems to be very intelligent for someone of his age." Castiel did not glance up from his plate, eating in a quick manner.

"He's two years older than you, Castiel, his intelligence is bound to be higher-" Balthazar reasoned, taking a drink of his wine.

"He isn't smarter than me, if that's what you're implying," Castiel paused, glancing up at Balthazar, then returning his eyes to his food and started eating again.

"I never said you were dumb-" he said defensively.

Gabriel chuckled quietly as Balthazar flubbed over his words. Lucifer gave Adam an upward twitch of his eyebrows, which Adam returned with a curling of the corner of his mouth. Michael stayed silent, ignoring them as he set to finishing his food.

"I never thought you were saying that, I'm just trying to say he's smarter with common sense while I'm intelligent due to the books I've read." Castiel's eyes flicked minutely in the direction Dean had left down the hallway before returning his eyes to his food.

Gabriel smiled, putting a bite of meat in his mouth before pointing the fork at Castiel, "You said for 'his age' so what exactly did you mean by that, little brother?"

"I _mean_ ," Castiel came off sharp but with a grunt from Michael he changed his tone to one of disinterest, "He has a darkness in his eyes that surpasses the normal amount for someone of his age." His shoulders slumped forward as he timidly took a bite from his plate, "But he is also very protective of Sam, which is quite endearing, in my opinion."

"Now, how do you know that?" Lucifer interrupted, a sly smile on his face. "You barely know the guy."

"I know enough..." Castiel's voice faded off as heat rose in his cheeks, "Plus, it's obvious because when he talks about Sam, his eyes get a certain shine in them." The blush faded as he rose his eyes to Adam who frowned into his food, "He's protective of you too, Adam. He just doesn't show it as openly." Adam shot a look of disbelief, a question hanging in the air, interrupted by Michael's voice piercing the silence.

"Now, the real reason we've gathered here." Everyone set down their forks, immediately tuned into Michael's words. "As most of you are aware, Metatron and Abbadon are going to visit and we need to give them a warm welcome." Castiel tried not to laugh bitterly at the irony of that statement, but allowed Michael to continue. "On top of that, I wanted Adam to know about Castiel- even if only so we don't have to keep Adam holed up in his room anymore."

" _Gee_ , thanks." Adam muttered under his breath, huffing in irritation.

Michael shot him an acrid look but continued anyway, "Castiel is the illegitimate child of Metatron and a human servant named Anna who became Metatron's mistress, supposedly, against her will. She gave birth to Balthazar in hopes to use as blackmail in order to leave servitude, but Metatron refused." Balthazar did not flinch at the mention of his mother, but did frown as he thought about how he'd been used. He'd been loved, but no where as much as Castiel. "Several years later, doped up with drugs, she had Castiel and loved him more than anything, but died during childbirth." He reached his conclusion anti-climatically, stacking his plates.

"So you're saying," Adam interrupted, "The Novak brothers were born because Metatron was a manipulative, controlling bastard, and refused to see reason? Sounds like him." He shrugged dismissively at Lucifer and Gabriel's matching looks of amusement, taking up his fork and eating a bite of his food.

Michael fumed, "He is my father and Arya's former leader, you will treat his name with respect."

"I treat everyone how they deserve to be treated. I'm sorry my mouth doesn't have a filter, but I don't speak bullshit."

"An honorable trait." Castiel interjected, earning a shy smile from Adam.

"You are my protégé, and you will abide by my orders."

"I didn't ask for this," Adam muttered angrily, "The fact I'll have more schooling, more opportunity to learn is fantastic- don't get me wrong- but I am sick and tired of being holed up by myself with no one to speak to. I'm not even allowed to speak to the guards. The least you could do is to allow me to visit Castiel once in a while, so I may speak to someone."

After a long pause, Michael spoke. "Granted," Michael said with patience, much to everyone's visible surprise. "However, your studies are top priority and if there is a single day you visit, even for five minutes, without them complete for the day your privilege will be immediately revoked and you will not get such a chance again."

"Deal." Adam answered, not entirely surprised by the steady hand that Michael held over him.

The rest of the dinner was carried in silence, and after everyone finished, Castiel left to retrieve Dean. The walk to his room seemed longer than before, knowing they were going to be speaking about him behind his back. They were going to talk about why Castiel was  _really_  ostracized from his brothers, about that little thing about his wings that made him so entirely special, but so absolutely  _dangerous_  to anyone he came across. Balthazar always refused to tell him why his wings made him special or why he needed to be shielded from the world. Castiel felt his muscles tighten, he could never be allowed to hear why. Yet, there they were in the other room, speaking to each other about the real reason Castiel was to be hidden. He did know one thing for sure, they did not hide him out of shame, but of absolute  _fear_.

Castiel walked into his room and felt a chill run up his spine as he approached Dean, curled into a ball by the toilet. His face was blotchy and wet with tears, shaking slightly as his eyes met Castiel's. He reeked of vomit, Castiel noticed.  _Damn_ , Dean thought to himself,  _I didn't want Cas to see me like this_.

"Dean," Castiel's voice seemed weaker as he dropped to his knees. "You look awful."

" _Gee_ , thanks." Dean muttered, causing Castiel to smile a little.

 _I guess I know now where Adam got that from_ , he thought to himself. "They want you to clean and put away dishes. I'll help you with them."

"Thanks, Cas." Dean tried to force a smile, but it looked pained.

"We'll wait here until you feel better, then we'll talk about what's bothering you."

"I'm not just going to load all of my crap onto you."

"I want to know. You need to let it out in a healthier way, Dean. I'll be your shoulder and your listening ear." Dean felt his heart sink,  _You're what's bothering me. I'm getting too close, Cas, please don't let me get so close._ Castiel's eyes shined in affection as he wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders and helped him up. "I'll clean you up, you can get your shirt on, and you can stay the night here. No need to walk home this late at night by yourself. I'll take care of it, okay?"

He laughed, feeling warm from how kind Castiel's words were. He told himself he can worry about Michael later, because right now, Cas is his top priority. Ruffling Castiel's hair, he ran his fingers through it, making it stick up in places. "Once I get cleaned up, I'll let you know some stuff, okay?"

Castiel grinned, leaning into the touch, "That's alright with me, just a bit at a time."


	18. Under Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All of his fiancés have all committed suicide."
> 
> "Really, now why did his fiancés all kill themselves?"
> 
> "From what I understand, it's due to shame."
> 
> "Find out and report to me as soon as you know."

Michael watched Castiel leave and waited for him to be out of earshot before starting the conversation that was the real reason to call Adam out from his suite. "I just wanted to let all of you know that it has come to my attention that this Dean fellow has not been sick like his family claims. I have taken a look at his records and-"

"A blind person can tell that Dean hasn't been sick." Adam said aloud.

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" Balthazar asked, sighing.

"The point is," Michael interrupted, "Something suspicious is going on."

"All of his fiancés have all committed suicide," Adam supplied, "He's been claimed to being manic-depressive from the trauma. He's been in and out of recovery since he was thirteen."

"And you know this how?"

"I still talk to Sam, he keeps me updated on..." he seemed to choke on the word as it came out, "family matters."

Michael frowned, "Really, now why did his fiancés all kill themselves?"

Adam flinched, Michael's indelicate phrasing sending a shiver down his spine, "From what I understand, it's due to shame."

"Do you know what of?"

"It was always an extremely touchy subject, so I never asked."

"Find out and report to me as soon as you know."

Lucifer and Gabriel gave each other reproachful looks, sharing the same questioning thought- that Michael couldn't possibly be serious. Adam nodded, watching Michael leave the table and exhaled shakily. He couldn't lie, he was such a terrible liar. Michael couldn't know about Dean's wing, but he couldn't lie about it. Not for long.

* * *

 

Castiel moved Dean and set him atop the toilet seat cover, reaching above it and getting a dishcloth from the cabinet. He ran cold water over it, sitting on his knees as he pressed the cloth gently to Dean's face. Pressing it against Dean's cheeks, his eyes focused solely on Dean. Through half-closed eyes, Dean looked down at Castiel, watching him stare intently at him.

"Thanks, Cas. You didn't have to do this."

"I want to," Castiel looked up at Dean, giving him a small smile before lowering his eyes back to the cloth. "Besides, you worry so much about everyone else." Dipping the cloth in the sink, he wrung it out and folded it before returning to Dean's face. "Someone needs to worry about you for a change."

Dean felt a wide smile rise on his cheeks, trying to stop it he bit on the corner of his mouth, "Wow, Cas. You sure know how to make a guy feel special," he joked, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

"Glad to be of service, Dean. So why did you vomit?"

Dean rolled the words on his tongue, eventually settling on the simplest explanation. "I worried myself sick. I've got a lot on my mind right now."

Castiel set the cloth in the sink, looking up at Dean, "What's worrying you?"

"I'm worried that I'm not doing my... job the way I should."

"You're doing wonderfully, Dean." Castiel stood, dusted off his pants and walked back into his room, changing into pajamas. "Let's go find something to wash your mouth out with."

"Got any whiskey?"

"In the kitchen."

"Let's go wash those dishes, then."

* * *

 

Gabriel looked at Adam with concern, pulling him from his thoughts, "You okay, kid?"

"Just peachy," he huffed, standing and pushing his chair in, "tell Castiel to expect me tomorrow. I'd like to get to know him."

Lucifer answered for Gabriel, who was lost in his own thoughts, "I'll make sure he gets the message. Go on to bed, breakfast is at eight if you'd like to join Gabriel and I."

"I'll think about it," Adam promised dismissively, heading to his room. On his way back, he almost walked into Dean who was walking alongside Castiel. Castiel walked on as Adam grabbed Dean's arm, yanking his left arm down hard, forcing Dean's ear to be level with Adam's mouth. "He knows something's up. Watch out for Michael."

Dean gave a single nod, pulling his arm from his grasp and running to meet Castiel who watched him with worried eyes. "Don't worry, he just told me to make sure the food stayed warm next time."

"It wasn't your fault, plus you aren't allowed to cook anyway."

"It's a shame, I'm a pretty good cook."

"I'll see if Gabriel can convince Michael to allow you kitchen privileges."

"Thanks, Cas."

"You're welcome, Dean." Cas smiled, patting Dean's shoulder.

Gabriel and Lucifer stood from their seats, walking towards the bedrooms. They caught a glimpse of Dean and Castiel as they passed but were not noticed, the two teens were in their own world of pleasant silences and hidden smiles. Lucifer gave a joking smile to Gabriel as they walked by, "Ah, young love."

"You'd better hope not, or one of our heads will be paraded on a pike as a Lord of the Feathers special."

"So negative," Lucifer chided, smiling.

Dean and Castiel collected the dishes while making small talk. "So, what did you guys all talk about?"

"For the most part, I was introduced to Adam."

"At least you'll have a visitor other than me, now." Dean commented, setting the dishes in the soapy water and rolling up his sleeves as he plunged his arms into the kitchen sink.

"Just having you was perfectly alright with me."

Dean's arms elbow-deep in subs, he smiled downward as he fought the urge to scratch the back of his neck embarrassedly. "Thanks, Cas, that means a lot to me." Dean said, watching him from the corner of his eye as Castiel pulled himself onto the counter.

"You don't seem to be used to compliments," Castiel supplied, eager to continue the conversation. "Is there a particular reason?"

"I'm not very well-liked among the town folk down there."

"Why is that?"

"I, uh," Dean's voice faded for a second before returning hoarse. "Four girls committed suicide because they were sworn in as my fiancé. One for every year from thirteen on." Hearing the small neighbor girl, Eve's voice, jeering in his head. Remembering her figure as she jumped rope, eyes locked on him, singing: one slit her wrists, one bit the bullet, another hung from the rafters, the last one starved, how many more must die 'til we find out why? "I'm ineligible to get a fiancé now that I'm eighteen." He said, pulling himself from his own dark thoughts.


	19. Past Traumas

**_The road so far..._ **

**_"You don't seem to be used to compliments," Castiel supplied._ **

**_"I'm not very well-liked among the town folk down there."_ **

**_"Why is that?"_ **

**_"Four girls committed suicide because they were sworn in as my fiancé."_ **

* * *

 

"It's not your fault, Dean."

"Don't try pulling that crap with me, Cas. It is my fault, I'm such a..."

"Freak? Is that the word you were going to use, Dean?" The phrase sounded simple enough to Dean but Castiel felt bitter towards that word. He hated that word because it always seemed to describe him perfectly. Castiel sent him a glance that seemed hardened, guarded and Dean frowned.

Dean leaned forward, his brows furrowed as he exhaled slowly as he felt the taste of vomit return to the forefront of his thoughts as he remembered that same look the day he lost track of Sam after he got in a fight at the hub. "You know, Cas, I could go for that drink now." Dean finished the dishes and set them on a rack to dry, wiping his arms off on a dish towel. Dean hated the word but, yes, that was he word he'd planned to use.

Castiel hopped down from where he sat on the counter and retrieved a dusty bottle of whiskey from the back row in a tall cabinet. Right where dad left it, Castiel thought to himself somberly as he took a glass from a nearby shelf and handed them both to Dean, who took them gratefully and quickly pouring whiskey into the tumbler. Dean was able to swallow it on one go, the burn a familiar twinge in his throat.

"Don't get too drunk, Dean, you may be at acceptable age but the suggested age is 21."

"Suggestions are just that, Cas, a suggestion." Dean said with a smile, pouring more into the cup. "Here, give it a try. You've never drank, right?"

"I'm only 16, of course I haven't."

"It's the minimal acceptance age, you can buy it at the hub at that age. Only at bars do you have to be 21. Come on, Cas, drink with me."

Castiel softened at the sad look in Dean's eyes, "Let's take it to my room, I'll get myself a glass."

"Atta'boy, Cas." Dean grinned, watching Castiel reach for a glass and holding it to his chest.

"We should hurry, if any of my brothers knew..."

"Don't worry about them, come on. I'll take care of you if you get too plastered." Dean reassured, slinging his arm around Castiel's shoulders and leading him back towards the bedroom.

Castiel grinned, taking a sip of the whiskey. He smacked his lips, flicking his tongue in distaste, "That's gross."

"Don't sip, drink in gulps. Alcohol tastes better if you wash it down with more alcohol."

"That sounds very counterproductive." Castiel commented, making Dean laugh as he closed and locked the doors behind him.

"We don't want anyone corrupting you with whiskey," Dean laughed, taking a drink from his glass, moving the chess board into the bottom of the wardrobe and closing the door to hide it from view as he set the bottle and his tumbler at his side of the table. "Join me." Castiel set his glass down hesitantly, sitting down and taking another sip. Dean filled a third of his glass again as he gave Castiel a reassuring grin. "Come on, Cas, you can trust me."

"I do trust you." Castiel commented seriously, forcing Dean's smile to waver slightly as he brung the glass to his lips and finished the rest of it in a single gulp before filling Castiel's glass. "I've trusted you from the second I met you, although I'm glad my trust hasn't been misplaced."

Dean's glass suddenly seemed too empty as he filled it to the brim, "Of course not."

"I trust too easily, it's one of my worst flaws, it seems." Castiel said thoughtfully, swirling the bit of whiskey around in his tumbler. "It's why my brother died, you know."

"What?" Dean set down his glass in alarm, Castiel's expression dark and so unlike his naïve persona suggested.

"His name was Raphael, he was just a bit younger than Michael. He was adopted by... my father because he saw untapped potential in him. He was bound to be a great leader. He had charisma, a voice that made you listen, and an intellect that rivalled the best minds out there... however, he died a few years back. I was roaming the town at night, even though I was probably too young to go out alone, and someone followed me home." Castiel downed his glass quickly, his breath shaking slightly.

Dean refilled Castiel's glass and he gave Dean a wobbly smile as he wrapped his palms defensively around the cup, as if seeking comfort from it. Castiel took Dean's intentful listening as permission to continue.

"The man following me managed to sneak in, though I locked the door when I entered, and stuck to the study on the ground floor. The light was on, so I tiptoed past, afraid of getting in trouble. For some reason, I'd felt the need to look back. I wish I'd noticed before. I saw the man who had followed me, knife raised at the height of his neck as he quietly pushed the door inward. I quietly followed him, half in shock, as he stabbed Raphael in the neck. I pushed in through the door and he told me 'Sorry you had to see that' as he wiped my brother's blood off his knife and onto the armchair where my dead brother's blood poured from his neck. The man even ruffled my hair before walking out. I was in shock for several minutes, watching my brother bleed before I fell to the ground and screamed for Michael." Castiel's eyes were distant but absent of tears. "Michael beat me halfway to a bloody pulp that night, he was so angry... Raphael was his best friend and I couldn't remember who killed him. I could only remember the dead look in Raphael's eyes before I screamed. To this day, Michael still hates me for causing Raphael's death."

"It's not your fault."

"It is, I've made peace with that." Castiel said calmly, alarmingly calm, drinking a large and slow gulp of his drink.

"Castiel? Who killed Raphael, did you ever find out anything?"

"Yeah," Castiel muttered, pouring his own glass of whiskey, "The man was a Hunter."


	20. Pure Irony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted revenge for Castiel, even if that made him a murderer too. "Tell me who did it, Cas. Tell me and I'll take care of it."
> 
> Castiel shook his head, "Revenge is never the answer. Come, put the drink away and I'll teach you some of the history I promised."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> Math is my worst subject so if I contradict myself with percentages, let me know, but I've done my best with what I know.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> deathbyinsomnia
> 
> (P.S. If I made this story into a book, obviously changing the names and a little bit of the plot points/terms to make it not resemble SPN too much, would you buy it to help me pay for college? Of course, I would have to finish the story before turning it into a book but would you guys be up for it?)

Dean managed to not spit the entirety of his liquor in Castiel's face, quaffing the rest down with a thick swallow.  _A hunter,_  he thought, _like me? A hunter killed his brother_? Castiel watched Dean thoughtfully, not missing the sudden awkwardness in his behavior.

"What's a hunter?" Dean asked, trying to sound clueless.

Castiel nodded, "Oh, I see, you don't know what they are. I understand how you wouldn't. It's a very dark matter. After Raphael was buried, I visited him every day in the mausoleum below the basement. I found Balthazar there and he explained it to me, even though it was obvious it made him uncomfortable to tell someone about it. He told me that Raphael was killed by a Hunter and that Hunters are for-hire murderers that only target angels."

Dean felt guilt upon hearing the story, but he wanted revenge for Castiel, even if that made him a murderer too. He knew it was the slur in his thoughts, surely caused by the whiskey, that made him waver like he was but he didn't care. "Tell me who did it, Cas. Tell me and I'll take care of it."

Castiel shook his head, "Revenge is never the answer. Come, put the drink away and I'll teach you some of the history I promised."

Exhaling slowly, Dean put away the glasses and whiskey, then flopped on the bed beside Castiel. Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean, who rolled his eyes with a smile, before taking off his shoes. Dean hauled his body up to lean up against the headboard with Castiel at his side, watching as he picked up a book from his bedside table and set it in his lap. Castiel's eyes seemed to lighten just slightly as he turned a page of the ragged book and starting from the beginning.

"Before Arya, the human race lived all over the place and our planet was called Earth. We live now on the only landmass to survive the war between angels and humans, called World War 3 until eventually mentioning the war itself was taboo. The people who survived the war became nomadic, moved anywhere the land could sustain life, but unfortunately most of the earth had been devastated from nuclear bombing on the side of the humans. Many angels died, but even more humans died." Castiel's eyes seemed to glaze over into one of numbness. "However, there's something I discovered. A secret that no one else knows about the angels, a secret that I will tell you once I've reached the end of the lesson."

"Sure." Dean supplied, his eyes glued on Castiel as he seemed to distance further and further away emotionally the further he went on.

"The death toll was well of 7 million if you included deaths from both sides, and angels were maybe 1 percent of the population. Now, the angels are about 2 percent of the three cities' populations together of three thousand."

Dean nodded in understanding; he recognized the statistics and their meaning and bade Castiel to continue. Castiel held his tongue, one single thing hanging on his lips that he could never tell Dean aloud, simply because Dean may get the wrong idea about his intentions in telling him such a thing.

"The important thing to note is that what they taught you in school, it's wrong. Angels aren't really "angels", we aren't any godsend from heaven. We are just a lineage of children formulated in test tubes to be the new Aryan race like 'pure-blooded' Germans were during the Nazi period. We were created in the same matter that Hitler raised his Youth to arms."

"But Cas," Dean muttered in disbelief, raising his voice a bit as he looked into Castiel's eyes. " _Why_  was it like that?"

Castiel gave a shrug of his shoulders before giving Dean a smile, "Did you know that before the term was used by the Nazis, in Sanskrit- a dead language you may never have heard of, Dean- Arya means noble, not ordinary, valuable, precious and pure? I bet they would laugh at the irony of how it is used now. Even though the name of our fair cities were named simply because Michael though it just 'sounded right', how funny is that?" Dean tried to press further but Castiel brushed him off. "That's enough for today; let's get some sleep, Dean." Dean watched Castiel in discomfort as he slid down underneath the covers and fluffed his pillow, seemingly at ease despite the darkness of the subject.

"Cas, why did you want to tell me about all of this?" Dean's eyes were almost pleading as he lifted the covers to get in bed.

"You should change into something more comfortable, you should look in my closet to find something."

"Thank you," Dean got off of the bed, peeled back the covers about halfway and walked over to Castiel's wardrobe, taking off his shirt and jeans. Folding his clothes and setting them on the shelf inside, he plucked a pair of pajama pants and pulled them on. "You never answered my question." Dean rose his eyes to look at Castiel who was watching him as though he was a sculpture to admire.

"I wanted to tell you because I'm tired of keeping all of this knowledge to myself. It's a burden knowing I'm the only one who knows the truth."

Dean felt a pang in his chest, the reminder of Michael's inevitable death at the forefront of his thoughts as he caught Castiel's eyes. Dean flushed slightly, embarrassed at Castiel's shameless stare. "Dude, you're staring."

Castiel felt a smile tug at his lips as he moved his palm from cradling his head to his side as he rolled onto his back. "Was I?"

"Last time someone looked at me like that, a girl a couple years older than me got her knees dirty." Dean said with a shaky laugh, walking to the bed and climbing in beside Castiel.

"I don't understand that reference." Castiel said in blunt confusion, his smile gone as he turned to face Dean who looked away, chiding himself.

"It means… a girl gave me a blow job."

"I don't follow."

"She sucked my... uh..."

"Oh," Castiel seemed to mull it over for a moment. "Was it pleasant?"

"Shit, Cas, we are  _not_ talking about this. Goodnight." Dean sputtered, turning away from Castiel.

"Goodnight, Dean. I wish you pleasant dreams."

"You too, Cas…" Dean managed out, desperately trying to forget how attractive Castiel had just looked, confused and waiting for clarification. "You too."

Dean had pleasant dreams, all right, and they were all filled with Castiel and his raspy, and not entirely unattractive, lilt in his voice. Filled with Castiel's eyes boring into him. Dean felt warmth as he was surrounded by Castiel's arms until suddenly the hands moved to his throat, choking him. Dean watched, pained, as Castiel's eyes filled with tears. "How could you?! I  _trusted_  you, Dean!  _I trusted you_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I am uploading this on a Friday, instead of my usual Sunday because.. well, I have a lot of personal stuff going on this weekend and I don't want to risk forgetting to post so, here it is. I will still be posting two Sundays (two days from the day of this update). Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> ~deathbyinsomnia


	21. Getting Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inch by inch, it slowly dawned on him that he was in Castiel's room.   
> Alone in Castiel's room.   
> As his mind began to wake up, it was shocked to life to realize that Castiel not being there was bad.   
> Really bad.

Dean shot up in bed, yanking the sheet violently from his body as a cold sweat forced his shirt to be transformed into a second skin. Dean's eyes darted wildly around the room, taking in his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was. Inch by inch, it slowly dawned on him that he was in Castiel's room.  _Alone_ in Castiel's room. Shakily taking the cover from off the bed, he padded to the bathroom, which stood empty. He exhaled, jittery, and took a quick look at his neck in the candlelight.

_No marks, no bruises, just over-imagination and the mistake of drinking before bed,_  Dean told himself as he looked out of the window, pushing back the curtain.

As his mind began to wake up, it was shocked to life to realize that Castiel not being there was bad. Really bad.

Before he let go of the curtain, still held tightly in his hand, he saw the market below and took a labored breath, his eyes eventually landing on The Factory. Just before that, the wall that separated Industrial Arya, the West, the Central portion, the "Crown", and the Farming in the East. Frowning, the only lights in the market at The Roadhouse, a startling reminder that Castiel was still somewhere in the house and away from him. Dean may need to kill Michael, but protecting Castiel was just as important. Clicking his tongue in distaste, he slunk out of the bedroom and down the long, pitch-black hallway and walked carefully down the stairs. Catching a gleam of light through the back door to the kitchen, Dean remembered seeing a door. Pushing it open slowly, Castiel jumped in surprise as he hid a bundle of fur back under a pile of leaves.

"Dean," he flubbed, "I-I'm sorry, did I wake you by getting out of bed?"

"No, I had a nightmare and I got worried. What's that you're hiding?"

Castiel mulled it over for a second before grabbing Dean's wrist and pulling him into a crouch beside him, "You mustn't tell Michael, or anyone."

"Of course," Dean offered, his eyes widening in shock as Castiel revealed a small den filled with about 8 foxes. "Wow, what are those? I've never seen one before."

Castiel smiled, "Its scientific name is Vulpes vulpes, in other words, it's an adapted type of red fox. The red foxes that used to live in the area- before they were killed off- ate meat but after realizing how hard it was to obtain since the humans cultivated it... they only eat vegetables and whatever berries they can find, now. It's very rare to see any animals outside of Eastern Arya, so I wanted to protect them and maybe they can repopulate."

"That's a pretty big 'if', especially considering how much trouble you'd be in if someone found out."

"It's a chance I'm willing to take." Castiel muttered seriously, petting one of the babies on the head before feeding it.

"You never cease to surprise me." Dean laughed, sitting on the grass.

"Good," Castiel said with a small grin, "Then maybe you'll stay around a while longer."

Dean felt a smile break his face, "No worries, Cas, I'm planning on sticking around a while."

"Hey, Dean, I was wondering what your favorite chess piece was."

"That's a little out of the blue."

"I've been thinking about it since earlier, so not really."

"My favorite is the pawn, I guess," Dean's mind drifted a little as he remembered Castiel's look of deep concentration as he considered his next move. "It always does it's best to protect the other pieces, even though it's weak and it has to sacrifice itself at some point. What's yours?"

"The knight," Castiel said quietly, hiding the foxes away and turning to look at Dean. "because it always fights to protect the important pieces and it's a strategically effective piece. Although, I believe I like your answer better." Standing slowly and walking towards the house, Dean scrambling to catch up to him. "Dean, I was wondering if you would tell me a story about yourself. I don't know anything about you and for us to become close, we must know more about one another."

Dean picked up on the absence of "friend" but disregarded it as reading too much into the situation. "I'll tell you once we get settled back into the room."

"Oh, and Dean?"

"Hm?"

"You clung to me in your sleep, in a way, almost akin to a Phascolarctos cinereus."

"A what?"

"You hugged me in a coddling way, almost as if you were a koala."

"I still have no idea what that is."

"It's funnier if you knew the animal." Castiel said disappointingly, becoming silent as they made their way up the stairs and down the long hallway until they eventually reached Castiel's room and locked the door.

Dean watched Castiel with a calm expression, the liquor having only given him the slightest of a buzz while Castiel seemed flushed and smiley but, altogether, composed as ever.

"How ya feelin', Cas?" he asked as Castiel stretched, interlocking his fingers and stretching his arms, also moving onto his tiptoes.

"Pretty good, actually. Very light." he finished his stretching and placed his palm on Dean's shoulder, "How about some more?"

"I think you've had enough for the night, Cas. Let's get to bed."

Castiel nodded, getting in on his own side and watching Dean get on the other, "Dean, I'm growing very fond of you." Dean stopped, blanket in hand, his eyes meeting the solemness displayed in Castiel's eyes. "I feel like I can tell you anything and everything I'm thinking." Dean got under the cover and laid on his side, head propped on his palm as he listened to Castiel. "There's just one thing that I wanted to know, though."

"What's that?"

"What is sexual intercourse like?"


	22. Drunken Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're not alone." Castiel whispered, "You've got me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road so far  
> ...
> 
> "Dean, I'm growing very fond of you. I feel like I can tell you anything and everything I'm thinking. There's just one thing that I wanted to know, though."
> 
> "What's that?"
> 
> "What is sexual intercourse like?"

 

Dean snorted, laughing just a little before he quit, feeling his wing twitch in it's hidden state. He needs to be careful. To stay focused. "It was... exciting. It was with me and my most recent fiancee, Lisa, and upon meeting each other we just had this spark. After her parents left the "betrothal meeting", I snuck into her room that night and we did it. It was quick, passionate, left be breathless afterward. It was like all of my pent-up emotions I'd ever had were released in that one night."

"You loved her." Castiel said with a sad smile, eyes becoming sympathetic.

"I didn't know her all that well. It was a one night stand. After I uh," Castiel's interested eyes made his cheeks turn pink, glad the nearby candle didn't provide enough light to see it. "Got off, something happened-" he pointedly avoided the confession of his wing, "and she grew upset, wanted to shut me out but after a few minutes of hitting me in the chest with her hands she stopped and started crying. She knew about the other fiancees. She didn't know that the 'fiancee killer' was me at first, but she knew then, and she knew if anyone got word they would shun her. She was willing to give me a shot, despite that. I didn't leave her side until the morning, so I could get in bed and get some rest in my own bed."

"That sounds... amazing." Castiel murmured other things to himself before looking Dean in the eye, "Was it your first time?"

Dean nodded, "I've had a couple more after that, but none of them meant anything to me. Occasional one night stands when I felt extremely alone."

"You're not alone," Castiel whispered, scooting just a hint closer to Dean who was too caught up in his own emotions to notice.

"I know that, but feeling it and being it are two different things."

"You've got me."

Dean stopped, feeling Castiel's breath on his chin as big blue eyes looked into his and Dean bit his lip, "Some personal space would be nice, Cas."

"Dean," Castiel's pupils were dilated, the true extent of his drunkenness finally making an appearance. "I'm here."

The hunter's thoughts went rampant. What did he mean? Was it a friendly gesture to always be a listening ear as he said before or was it something much more than that? Dean moved his free hand to touch the side of Castiel's neck, to nudge him a bit so he'd move. However, under his thumb he could feel Castiel's pulse which ran a mile a minute. Castiel muttered his name again and Dean fought to keep his cool.

"Cas, you're drunk. You should sleep."

"I don't want to replace Lisa."

The phrase shot Dean in the heart. He didn't expect that to hurt, but it did.

"If you have space, Dean, in your heart-"

Castiel's pulse got even quicker and the slight stubble around his mouth drew Dean's eyes to his shallow breathing.  _Dammit, Cas. Let's hope you forget all of this in the morning._  Dean moved the hand from under his head and wound it around Castiel's neck as he leaned in for a kiss. It was quick and despite Castiel's lips looking so severely chapped, they were soft and still had a faint reminiscence of whiskey on them. Castiel's eyes closed as Dean kissed him, smiling as he pushed himself closer to Dean, putting his hands on Dean's chest and gripping the fabric of his shirt between his fingers when Dean moved away.

"Is there any room for me?"

"Ask me in the morning." Dean whispered shakily, putting his face in Castiel's hair. "We can talk about it then."

"Is it because we're drunk?" Castiel asked, leaning his head on Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, that's part of it."

"What's the other part?"

"I don't want to be in a place I can't escape from."

"Am I a trap you must escape from?" Castiel asked curiously, if not slightly bitter.

"No, Cas, never. I just, I've got a lot of baggage and I don't think I'm ready to load all that off yet."

"Okay." Castiel whispered, both of them beginning to drift back into sleep. "Dean, your lips are soft."

Dean moved his hand to the back of Castiel's head, pushing his face into his chest. "Shut up and go to sleep."

"One more kiss?"

"No." Dean laughed, not able to keep the smile from his face but kissed the top of Castiel's hair. "Goodnight, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean." Castiel smiled, wrapping an arm around Dean lazily, the brunt of the fogginess of alcohol hitting him square in the noggin, making him fall alseep almost instantly. Dean fell asleep a little later after listening to Castiel's quiet snores, the whole time a single thought circulating in his mind.  _I must be drunker than I thought I was._

* * *

The next morning, Gabriel woke up a little after sunrise to speak with the mail servant. "Any mail for me?" Gabriel asked, worried that his pupil still hadn't contacted him yet.

"No, sir. I've been 4 times to the telegraph station every day, just as I was ordered. Nothing for you, sir."

Gabriel waved his hand in dismissal, leaving the driveway to walk speedily into the house and to his room. Lucifer came in a few minutes later, his hair in disarray and only wearing a thin pair of silk pants. "He still hasn't left a message?"

"I'm worried, Luce, he  _never_ goes even one day without an update. Even if it's complaining, he always sends me updates. I've got to go, something must be wrong." he muttered fervently, rushing around the room to throw garments of clothing and personal trinkets back into his suitcase.

"Go after lunch, if he doesn't respond by then, feel free to go. I'll even cover for you with Michael."

Gabriel nodded slowly, before sighing in acceptance, "You're right. I think we should go visit Castiel sometime after breakfast."

"Sounds like a plan," Lucifer rubbed at his scalp, worsening the appearance of his hair. "Now, pack quietly so I can sleep a bit longer. Go make breakfast with that Dean fellow, I heard from his brother Sam that he's a splendid cook."

"When did you hear this?"

"When he was talking with the Chief Guard and the probie kid."

"You mean Kevin?"

"Yes, I believe that was his name." He yawned, popping his knuckles. "Remember the 'quiet as a church mouse' shabang and shhh."

"Sure thing, bro." Gabriel muttered sarcastically, finishing up his packing and grabbing a small picture of Jeremy from his breast pocket. "God, Jer... I hope you're okay."


	23. Shameful Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel shook his head, lips pursed as he suddenly went blank, all thoughts leaving his mind and his wings appearing and unfurling across Adam's lap.
> 
> "You... you're an angel..."

The sound of a knock on the door woke Dean up, making him very aware he was  _not_ supposed to be sleeping peacefully next to an unconscious Castiel Novak. As he quickly unraveled Castiel's arms from around him and started dressing back in his own clothes with haste, the knock came again, followed by Adam's voice.

"Hey, Castiel, it's me... Adam. I was wondering if we could do something. I know you can't leave your room and all, but I was thinking we could do something else."

Dean pulled on his shirt and buttoned his pants on the way to the door, kicking the pajamas he wore under the bed. Looking down at himself and running his fingers through his hair, he unlocked and opened the door. "Oh, hey. What's shakin'?"

"Why are you in Castiel's room?"

"I came to clean."

"You did a crap job of it." he muttered, looking past him into the room.

"I just got here a bit ago. I locked the door so no one would wake Cas, you're lucky you didn't wake him," Dean warned.

"Why's that? Gonna 'rip me a new one', like dad used to say?"

"I'm not in the mood for this, Adam. Not now, not ever." Memories of his father's drunken spells came back in a haze, causing gooseflesh on his skin.

"He's my dad too."

"Don't wake Cas. Come back later."

"Gabriel sent for you."

"Why?"

"He wants you to help him make breakfast. He's worried about his ward and he cooks when he's nervous."

"Wouldn't have pegged him for the type."

"Who would? Now, you should get going, I'll watch over Cas. I promise I won't wake him."

Dean spared Castiel a look of worry before giving his half-brother a hard look. "If I find out later that you've woken him up, I will find every possible method to make your life a living hell, little brother."

Adam was going to tell him 'too late' out of spite but the words caught in his throat at the word 'brother'. "You've never called me your brother before..."

Dean crinkled his nose, "Yeah, I have."

"Not to me."

"I didn't think you wanted me to call you that."

"Well, you thought wrong. Don't assume things."

"Whatever, Adam. I gotta go see about making breakfast. You still prefer the same breakfast?"

"You remembered..."

"Of course I remember, you had me make it every morning until you moved out." Dean said dismissively, cutting Adam off before he could thank him for remembering something so trivial. "See ya, little brother. Tell Cas where I am when he wakes up and if he says he has a headache, tell him to sleep it off. " Dean turned on his heel, eager to finish cooking breakfast so he could rejoin Castiel and play another game of chess.

"Dean!" Adam called, causing Dean to stop and turn to him. Adam gave his half-brother a wobbly smile, "You've always been my big brother. Even though we have different moms, I still l-love you like blood."

Dean felt a laugh escape his lips as he ruffled Adam's hair. "Same here, short stack."

"I'm not short! I'm just-" he paused, stepping inside the room as he pouted. "I'm not done growing yet!"

"Yeah, okay." Dean joked, patting him on the shoulder. "Remember, don't wake Cas."

Adam rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Say it again, I didn't hear it the first thousand times you said it."

"I'm serious."

"Don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on Sleeping Beauty."

"In the original story, Sleeping Beauty was raped as she slept and I don't believe I can fit that description properly." Castiel supplied, sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "Go to the kitchen with my brother, Dean. I'll be fine with Adam watching over me."

"I'll be your guardian angel," Adam joked.

Dean stiffened in anger, jealousy boiling in his gut as he strode through the doorway and towards the kitchen.

* * *

"Did Dean seem a little angry to you?" Adam asked, sitting in Dean's chair.

"I'm not... sure." He ended thoughtfully, head lolling to the side. "Is the room spinning or is it just me?"

"Just you," Adam laughed, watching Castiel hiss as he moved out of bed too quickly. "Take it easy there, buddy. You may fall out of-" Castiel fell forward, Adam falling to his knees in front of Castiel, barely able to grab around his torso before falling face-first into the hardwood floor. "Whoa, Castiel, are you sick or something?"

Castiel shook his head, lips pursed as he suddenly went blank, all thoughts leaving his mind and his wings appearing and unfurling across Adam's lap and covering the floor 7 feet away on both sides of him. Adam's eyes went wide as all of the air left his lungs, the wings were consisted of long, coarse, black feathers that were short and rounded at the end. Adam felt a twinge of fear as Castiel regained his mind and looked up at Adam, a look changing quickly to shame as he willed his wings to hide again.

"Your wings are black... the feathers are different..."

Castiel's eyes shot open in pain as he snapped them back into his skin. The bones folding quickly and rubbing painfully against each other as they pull on top of his shoulder blades, invisible again through the slits in his shirt. Adam stared in shock, "I know all clothes are made with the slits in the back... but your shoulder blades are much bigger... even than mine." Adam rubbed thoughtfully at his soft, stubby wings.

Castiel's eyes settled into a hazy blue as he touched Adam's shoulder, "You cannot tell anyone about my wings... that I'm an angel. Especially not Dean."

"You mean he doesn't  _know_!"

"Of course he doesn't!" Castiel muttered, "You aren't even supposed to know!"

"How doesn't anyone know, I mean they move on their own and they're huge and-"

Castiel stopped him, the young boy's voice much too loud for someone with a hangover. "Let me explain to you how wings work, since you aren't exactly going to be taught by Michael... but you didn't hear this from me."

"Right," Adam nodded. "I won't tell my... brothers" Adam smiled a little at the term, "or Michael about this."

"Good," Castiel rolled his shoulders, still sore from snapping his wings in too quickly. "It all begins when humans decided they wanted another way to be technologically ahead of each other through weaponry and in the process, the biggest weapon to ever be created happened... the angels."


	24. Brother Dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> I'm including as many characters from the canon (if you couldn't already tell), even if they are only mentioned. So many stories narrow down characters too much but there's other stories that have too many to keep track of. No worries. So far, the only characters that matter are:
> 
> Dean, Castiel, Gabriel, Michael, Adam, Lucifer, Crowley and Kevin.
> 
> There will be at least two possible supporting characters joining the main story along with the ones I already listed, if only briefly- one of them being my OC Jeremiah but he comes into the actual story a bit later if you haven't read The Prodigal Son- the Jeremiah oneshot- and the other being my pathetic attempt at adding another ship since in this story I knew I couldn't ship Sabriel, no matter how much I love it.
> 
> Anyhow, I wish you luck in these brave new world called Arya, my dear readers.
> 
> ~deathbyinsomnia

Castiel regained his footing, walking over to the table and ushered Adam to sit across from him. Castiel ran his fingernails across the armchair, that was now appropriated solely for Dean, sitting in it. "It was called the ICE Project, short for Inner Cloaking Engineering, but I'm getting a little ahead of myself." Reaching from the bookshelf beside him, he grabbed a worn book that was held together with leather strings. "This is the anonymous journal of a scientist under the pseudonym Carver Edlund, he was the one who started the whole project. Of course, at the time, everyone thought he was- as he cared to describe with great detail in the journal- 'nothing more than an egghead who'd fallen off the deep end of the crazy pool' but... that was his greatest advantage." Castiel turned his eyes up to Adam who watched, fully attentive in what Castiel had to say.

"Go on," Adam murmured, his breath seemingly caught in his throat.

* * *

Dean walked into the kitchen quietly, almost knocking heads with Gabriel who had a plastic RedStraw above his mouth, his head tilted back to catch the strawberry-flavored sugar.

"Dean, there you are. Here I was, thinking you had bailed on me."

"It's not like I can." Dean said casually, taking a black apron from the hook by the door and tying the strap around his waist.

"Sure you can," Gabriel said with a grin, throwing the empty sugar straw into the garbage as he returned to the stove where water was trying to boil.

"Not without ending up as a legend," Dean muttered wryly, going into the pantry and grabbing meat and yeast that could be used for breakfast. "I can just see it now, 'Dean the Decapitated, the first and last person to say no to one of the three most powerful leaders in Arya.' That would be just..." Dean laughed humorlessly at his own joke, "It would be just _peachy,_ wouldn't it?"

"Wow, someone's pity party's gone full swing. Be careful not to let the neighbors call over the secret guard for that disturbance of the peace." Gabriel said with a smile ghosting in his eyes, allowing Dean to take the reigns on making the bread as he made the tea, bacon, and sausage patties.

Dean laughed genuinely before shaking his head, "You're nothing like Michael."

"I know, I'm much better looking." Gabriel joked, winking at Dean who just rolled his eyes with a smile splayed across his cheeks.

"Modest too."

"Not to mention I am capable of having a sense of humor."

"So why the sudden council meeting, the annual meeting isn't until Winter, right?" Dean asked.

Gabriel cast Dean a look of surprise as he flipped the bacon and sausage on his skillet, keeping an eye on the water and waiting for it to boil. "You sure don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"So I've been told," Dean smiled, remembering Gabriel's brother having said the exact same thing.

"Well, if you really want to know," Gabriel kept his eyes on what he was doing, feeling Dean's eyes on him. "Abbadon and Metatron are back in Arya."

"Back? I thought it was a wasteland outside the walls, inhabitable, what do you mean they're back?"

"They're out of hiding. They split up and hid in the trenches and alleyways of Central Arya, metaphorically speaking, and now they're back to do who knows what. Michael invited them here."

"Now why would he do that? Last time Metatron was around, didn't he kill at least three-thousand humans?" Dean asked, taking the finished bread and cutting it into slices.

"Yeah," Gabriel laughed darkly, "he called it 'Stabilizing the Population', so that there would be just enough people to work the agriculture farms, factories, and government of Arya but no one extra. He stopped before telling people how many children they could have, there was never any need. Especially since the maximum amount of rood rations is 6, enough for two parents, two children, and their partners."

Dean frowned, he always knew food rations were barely enough, and this was the reassurance of what he already knew. Adjusting his shoulders, he finally looked over at Gabriel who was worriedly setting the food onto individual plates. "Something's bothering you," Dean commented, setting the bread plate beside Gabriel. "What's the matter?"

"Jeremiah, I haven't heard word from him ever since I've gotten here. The brat usually gives me all the details of his day, right down to what he ate for lunch," Dean noticed the softness and concern in Gabriel's voice.

"You should go see if he's okay."

"I promised Luci I'd stay at least until after breakfast."

"You'll feel much better if you see him first, Gabriel," Dean supplied, "it sounds like something's up. You really should go see if he's okay, bring him with you once you've checked on him. Michael can't say no, especially if you'll be here a while. Maybe you can even convince Lucifer to bring his ward here too, so you can 'be more equipped to stay long-term'."

Gabriel's eyes lit up as a mischievous grin turned his mouth into a Cheshire grin, "You're a genius." Yanking off his apron and tossing it at Dean, who caught it in one hand, "Tell Michael I'll be back two nights from now, I'll talk to Luc too!"

"Wait."

Gabriel peeked his head back in through the kitchen door, "Yeah?"

"This Jeremiah kid's got you whipped."

Gabriel smiled, a ghost of a shy blush on his face, "He doesn't even have a clue."

"Tell him. You're an angel, remember? What you say, goes, and everyone else can just kiss your ass."

"Right," Gabriel smiled a bit more solemnly, "Take care of my brother."

Dean nodded, Castiel's smile ringing in his head, "I'll do my best."


	25. Slowly Revealing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> This is the chapter that will FINALLY explain all of the misconceptions surrounding the wings. Sorry about all of the confusion, guys, but it was necessary to keep everyone- including all the characters- in the dark. If you haven't figured it out yet, Castiel is basically the only reliable source of unbiased historical information in the whole story. It may help to keep that in mind.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> deathbyinsomnia.

 

Dean set the table in silence, watching his mom, dad, brother, and Jess enter quietly with Crowley, Kevin, and a few other guards trailing behind. Mary Winchester beamed at Dean as he set the plates of food on the table.

"Look, you're cooking again. You always were a good cook."

"Mom," Dean smiled, fighting off embarrassment as she kissed his forehead. "I only made the bread."

"Either way, thank you, that makes it much easier since you made breakfast already. I can go help John and your brother clean. Then maybe I can help Jessica do laundry."

Dean smiled, "Well, I'll do my thing and I'll see you guys at home tonight."

"Speaking of which, where were you last night?" Sam asked, whispering as Mary fussed over Kevin's collar, temporarily distracted.

"I kind of got drunk with Cas, I crashed in his room," Dean admitted and Sam sighed.

"How bad off was he?"

Dean thought it over, remembering the second kiss they shared, the latter meant to be an actual kiss and not just "sealing the deal".

"Well, enough to where I wondered how out of line it would be to pounce him." Dean said honestly.

He knew he was sharing more than he should, however, Sam was used to it.

"And does he know about your impure thoughts about him- a boy two years younger than you?" Sam grinned, watching Dean flush in embarrassment. "You like him, don't you?"

"I'm infatuated but," Dean paused, then shook his head in dismissal "Long term infatuation? Doubtful."

Sam nodded, although not believing him entirely, "Just be careful, Dean. This isn't one of your one-time hookups."

"Gee, Sammy, I never knew."

"Don't be a smart-ass."

"Sammy, I'm a big boy, I can make my own choices."

"That's debatable."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

* * *

"Being deemed as crazy was a good advantage because once he'd started doing human trials, no one was around to debate the ethics of it." Castiel relayed, as if having rehearsed the speech many times before.

Suddenly, a knock rang throughout the room.  _Knock, knock, scrape, knock, knock, knock._

Castiel let out a sigh of relief, "Gabriel, you may come in."

Gabriel smiled, sitting on the bed several feet away from them, "I'll tell you once you finish, baby brother. You go on ahead."

Castiel nodded, his brother had studied the old world with him for a while but once Michael found out, Gabriel was immediately shut off from the library. Castiel, however, had the ability to sneak in since he was the flower in the attic, never to be seen, acknowledged, or heard.*

Castiel returned his attention to Adam who was still giving his undivided attention, "Everything we have been conditioned to believe is a lie. All of what we have been taught as angels has been set in stone by our predecessors to keep us in the dark and keep us in power, to keep us above the human race, even though we are no more than being exactly that- human."

* * *

They laughed and Mary shot them a sour look to which they rolled their eyes. Sam, Jess, and the others headed to their posts while Dean, Crowley, and Kevin stayed behind.

"Why, coming to see what's come to light?" Crowley cooed, amused by the twitch in Dean when irritated.

"Yeah, so what have you found?"

"Well, nothing so far. Sorry, lad. However, Lucifer's charges seem to be quarreling and have broken up, the 'blonde Charlie' ran off* and eloped with a human; word is they're going to try to live outside of Arya altogether."

"Are they crazy from love or just plain stupid?"

"According to Luci-dearest, blonde Charlie was only with Big Red because Red 'was a constant in her life and she doesn't understand the difference between platonic love and romantic love'."

"You're really good at this parroting thing," Dean uttered with mild discomfort.

"I'm a guard, it was one of my duties when I went undercover as a novice. Anyhow, I need to get to work and Kevin is a little hung over so we're going to head to our posts."

"You do that. I'll be around, so just find me if you find out anything else."

"I am at your absolute beck and call, my liege."

Dean twitched at the sarcasm and immediately felt the urge to 'punch that dickbag in the face' as he so readily repeated in his head. Dean squared his shoulders and headed into the direction of Castiel's room, itching to get away from the guard before doing some serious damage to the man's smug expression.

* * *

"How is that possible?" Gabriel asked, never having heard this quote-unquote 'theory' before about his species. "We have wings, for crying out loud, how can that be explained away?"

"Simple. They aren't what they seem to be." Castiel did not skip a beat, his eyes locked on the door on the lookout for Dean. He knew he couldn't tell him all of this just yet. Dean Winchester was not ready for this kind of news.

"Remember, Adam, how I told you they were part of the ICE project? Well, this project was not just trying to create angels, although that's what they became. The ICE project was actually the creation of the most inconceivable Trojan horse in history. Angels were created as a weapon to fight other nations, created by the United States of America. Our wings were a ploy, so we could disguise as fallen angels from Heaven and be 'nurtured' to health by the humans that resided in whichever enemy camp we visited.

Our wings were useless, only for show. I've studied the anatomy of birds- as well as their wings and DNA, as shown in the journal, and if these wings were to ever work our bones would have to be hollow- which they aren't, our mass would have to be lowered exponentially, and our wings would have to be twice the length of our height. Not to mention, our wings are located on our shoulder blades so there is no way to articulate the wings to begin with. Even on top of all that, normal angel wings resemble a bird- which is beyond extinct now- called an Ostrich. Their white feathers match exactly with the typical angel feathers."

"What are yours made of then, Castiel? They're different than ours." Adam commented, immersed in the topic.

"Mine match with a bird called a Crow; seeing them in the days before Arya was a sign of bad luck and death, which may be ingrained in the mind of Metatron, who hates me so deeply."

Gabriel stopped Castiel as the clock chimed loudly in the hall, signalling the time of the arrival of his carriage. Dean walked in, as if on cue, and bowed to the three of them.

"Gabriel, your carriage boy caught me leaving the kitchen and said 'Tell him I'm here and waiting'."

"Well that old fart can wait!" Gabriel puffed angrily, hugging his brother and Adam goodbye. "I'm going to check on 'Miah, I'll be back in a few days."

Then, turning on his heel, Gabriel bolted from the room and left Dean watching Adam and Castiel in confusion.

"Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> *Also, Flowers in the Attic a great series, I highly recommend it.
> 
> *You do not even know how hard it was to not change 'ran off' into 'r-u-n-n-o-f-t', like in "O, Brother Where Art Thou?"
> 
> That movie is amazing.
> 
> -.-.-.-
> 
> Just for fanart purposes(wink wink, nudge nudge), Dean's feathers have the shape/color of Albino Raven feathers.
> 
> Albino Ravens are beautiful creatures, you should google a picture or two of them.
> 
> -.-.-.-.-
> 
> I've just realized this fic will be TWO YEARS OLD ON JUNE THE 6TH!
> 
> WOW!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, you guys!
> 
> I love all of you and in celebration, you get TWO updates for your Yule Season presents!
> 
> Please continue to read this story until the end!


	26. Moving Pawns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> "How is that possible?"
> 
> "Simple. They aren't what they seem to be."
> 
> Gabriel bolted from the room and left Dean watching Adam and Castiel in confusion.
> 
> "Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"

"Nothing you need to fret over," Castiel promised, tapping his hand on Adam's shoulder. "Adam, you should go back to your room and continue your studies."

"Right, we'll talk more later." Adam stood, bowed politely, and left for his room.

Dean watched Castiel with wary eyes, knowing the boy was most definitely hiding something from him. Realizing the hypocrisy of asking what he was hiding, when he was hiding something himself, caused him to close his mouth and set the chess board in place. Dean's eyes flitted over the pieces and moved a pawn, causing Castiel to look at him in surprise.

"That's a different pawn than you usually use for your first move."

The words reminded him of how many times he'd lost to Sam and Jess over a game of rock, paper, scissors because he refused to take the risk of using another, seemingly weaker, option.

"Maybe I'm trying to really beat you this time," Dean smiled tentatively,"Trying to be unpredictable."

"You're very good at being unpredictable," Castiel smiled, fingertips caressing the rounded top of his chosen pawn and sliding it into place.

The game continued on, words of polite conversation eventually dwindling into a pleasant silence. Dean felt his eyes roam over Castiel's hand as his index finger and thumb would circle around the pawn's head in anticipation for his next move, his eyes glazed over and far away. Dean knew that Castiel was bothered by something, but felt the need to pretend he didn't notice. They've already crossed unnecessary boundaries in the short time they've known each other and there needed to be distance if Dean was to ever complete his first assignment as a hunter. Dean, realizing his head had been in the clouds exhaled sharply and moved his knight from it's defensive position and Castiel watched with interest.

The game went on for hours, uninterrupted and at sundown Sam peaked his head in, "Dean, time to go."

Dean nodded, sparing a small smile to Castiel before shrugging on his coat. "Maybe another time, Cas. Make sure you go get something to eat."

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel muttered, not missing the hint of anger in Dean's eyes.

They were very close to finishing the game, further than they ever had been so far, and Dean was still going to lose. It was inevitable and Castiel could see that resentment in Dean's eyes when Sam left the room. Dean reached his hand out and ruffled Castiel's hair before squaring his shoulders and leaving the room, meeting John in the main foyer as they waited on the others.

"So, Dean... What has Michael got you working on?"

Dean scuffed his boot against the clean tile, leaving a line of dirt, and shrugged his shoulders. "It's Sam's old job."

"Really?" John muttered with sympathy, "Sorry about that."

Dean's curiosity got the better of him, how did Sam explain why he was stuck in a room all day, not allowed to invite anyone in?

"Oh, I guess it's not  _that_  bad," Dean tried, seeing his mom and Jess smiling and laughing at something Sam had said.

"Not that bad? If I had to sort through Old World files, I think I'd go insane," John enthused, "Especially since you're not even allowed to read them."

Sam gave Dean a look that Dean knew they both shared with each other on small occasions, but this time had been different- it meant more. A look that usually said _, thanks for saving my ass,_ but this time it meant that Dean didn't have to lie- Sam knew better and saved Dean the trouble unknowingly. This secrecy was something Dean hated about his lifestyle of ditching the angels; the lying, the secrets, and the need to talk at a minimum to save his own family's skin if an angel caught wind of his truancy or of the fact that he, himself was one of angelkind (although only to a degree).

The thought was still hard to swallow. Dean had been part-angel for his entire life, known what it meant to be an angel almost as long, and he hated the feeling of powerlessness that came from having to hide this huge secret. Dean had been playing hooky from working for Michael since he was old enough to work and it'd been a miracle no one had caught on, and keeping it that way was going to be tough, especially with the head of the house being the nosiest angel in all of Ayra.

* * *

Castiel watched out the window with bated breath, peeking through the slit in the curtains as he watched Dean stride alone behind the rest of his family, his hands deep in his pockets, and his shoulders slumped forward. Castiel's hand pressed against the cool glass, leaning his forehead against it, he watched Dean turn around and Castiel gave him a tired smile, mouthing 'Hello, Dean.' Dean smiled faintly and waved, taking a few long strides to rejoin his family in walking home.

Watching Dean turn away from him, he heard his door open and spun around violently to meet the eyes of Balthazar.

"Castiel, I've just come to tell you that I'm going to do it. I scheduled an appointment next week."

"Is that what you want?" Castiel asked softly, his shoulders stiffening as he met his brother's eyes, surprised at the sudden outburst.

"More than anything, you know that."

"Is it selfish of me to hope you'll change your mind?"

"Yes, and no. It's dangerous and there's a possibility I could die."

"I hope you don't, Balthazar."

"Me too, Castiel. So, now that I've said my piece, Adam wishes to speak with you. It's about his brother."

* * *

Dean pulled Sam aside, and spoke only in a whisper, "Sammy, I'm going over to Bobby's, I'll be home tonight before it gets too late. Before 11."

"Dean, you know none of us have clocks in the house."

"Then I guess you'll just have to trust me then, won't you?"

"Go, before mom objects to it."

"Thanks," Dean threw over his shoulder, taking a detour to the dirtier part of town so he could gain access to the fence by Bobby's.

The path seemed denser than usual to Dean, but the only difference was his lack of cloudiness that usually accompanied his trips to Bobby's. No longer on autopilot, Dean had a reason to go to Bobby's. He needed the kind of advice only a former hunter could give. Advice involving the killing of Arya's most powerful leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> This is the final serial update for the Yule Season!
> 
> Expect the next update in two weeks, per usual!
> 
> Thanks, you guys!


	27. Favorable Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Castiel:
> 
> "Is it selfish of me to hope you'll change your mind?"
> 
> "It's dangerous and there's a possibility I could die."
> 
> "I hope you don't."

 

The sun was setting as Dean neared the house, a single flicker of a candle from the study.  _Great_ , Dean thought to himself sarcastically,  _he's in a brooding kind of mood._ Looking around the ground, he turned a rock and found Bobby's lock picking kit Dean buried as a kid, in case of this kind of situation. It took a few seconds for Dean to get the hang of it again, but he opened the door with ease and pocketed the kit. Slinking down the hallway, Dean waited until he was in outside the door frame before knocking.

"Hey, Bobby. I need some advice."

"Is this one of those 'does sex hurt' questions because if it is you better turn right back around."

"I'll try not to feel insulted, but seriously, Bobby I need to talk to you. It's about the job."

"Kid, I know he's a higher-level angel but he isn't that hard to cut down. No questions are needed."

"God damn it, Bobby, don't minimize my problems- I have a big fucking problem."

"Then what is it!?"

"I think I'm in love with his baby brother!"

Bobby's expression turned into one of disgust, "You mean that playboy, Gabriel?"

"No! Hell no, Jesus. Michael has two half brothers. The youngest one. His name is Castiel, Bobby, and I've got it real bad."

"How bad?"

"I've considered ditching the job entirely."

"You know you'd never be a hunter that way. Your first job gets you in, you don't get a second chance, Dean."

"Honestly, Bobby, I think he's worth the risk." Dean felt his cheeks flare up, his thoughts solidifying as he says them aloud. "I don't know Bobby, it's like I can't stay away. Even now, I feel my fingers itch to twirl his hair around my fingers. There's something in his eyes... they're so blue."

"You mentioned he's Michael's half-brother," Bobby interrupted, trying to get back on topic. "Does that mean he's human?"

"Of course he's human, Bobby. I'm not that much of an idiot, to fall for one of those dickbags."

"I'm just asking, kid. You have enough secrets as it is hiding the fact that  _you're_  angel."

"That's beside the point, I want whatever this weird thing is between me and Cas to work. The  _problem_  is that ganking his big bro is a huge wrench in the works."

"Have you even seen an engine before, Dean?" Bobby chuckled, standing and lighting another candle with a match.

"Oh, shut  _up._ I asked for advice, so give me some damn advice instead of beating around the bush!"

"Kill him. Your family needs the food. You'll have a set career for life."

"Most of which will involve hiding for the rest of my life."

"You drew the short straw, I get it. You decided to get on the job at a bad time. Your dad had the same problem."

"My dad... I thought he never hunted."

"He did. One of the best at it, too. He never got emotionally involved... except for one."

"What do you mean?"

"He got... involved with her. He let her live. He was kicked out of the hunting circle and he never went back."

"When did he..."

"A long time ago."

"So he cheated on mom more than once?"

"No... just the one time."

"You mean Adam's... oh shit."

"Exactly. Your dad was lucky the girl wasn't connected to anyone important."

"So did dad... you know?"

"No way. Even for a fling, he'd never disrespect her- not like that."

"So then dad didn't kill her?"

"No."

"Then how did she die?"

"No one knows," Bobby looked briefly out the window, "You should go, you've been here long enough."

"Right, thanks for the advice Bobby, even though it didn't help jack shit."

"Your welcome, now go."

"I got it, I got it." Dean muttered, stuttering a wave over his shoulder before burying his hands deep in his pockets and heading towards the opening in the woods.

Bobby watched him from the window, candlestick in hand as the boy navigated his way down the hill. "Whatever Power-That-Be, please take care of that kid. Please." Bobby felt his shoulders sag as he closed the curtains and walked slowly up the stairs to his bedroom.

* * *

Castiel waited patiently on his bed for Adam to knock once, then enter his room, the process took several minutes. The boy looked tired and ragged, despite his extensive amount of sleep the night before. He seemed immensely troubled.

"Castiel."

"My brother said this is about Dean."

"Straight to the point? Yes. He likes you, I can tell, I'm just here to say that something is hanging over his head and if I find out that you have to do with it, you'll be out of this house and on the street. I'll have no qualms about the end of our friendship if you hurt Dean."

"I'd never do that. Ever."

"I hope so, Castiel, because I've never seen him this way."

"Are you sure he likes me?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Castiel, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure."

"I need a servant to talk to, can you talk to Michael about getting me one?"

"He may not listen to me, but I'll surely try, Adam."

"Thank you. Don't forget about what I said. You don't want to get on my bad side, now that you've told me what you have. I could easily tell Michael if things with you and my brother go sideways."

"They won't." Castiel promised with a wobbly smile, "Because I owe Dean my life."

"Whatever, just-" Adam interrupted himself by yawning so wide, his jaw made a popping sound. "Be good to him."

"I will." Castiel muttered as Adam left, closing the door behind him. Crawling under the covers, Castiel felt his eyes drawn to the chessboard and he felt his heart sink.

_Dean..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> This chapter took so long to write. Jesus. I kept singing The Banana Boat Song by Harry Belafonte and when I'd stop singing that I'd get distracted by humming I've Got A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts by Merv Griffin then I'd start singing Coconut by Harry Nilsson and I just could NOT FOCUS. I ended up taking about a week to write this chapter due to those distractions. (Yes, I get songs stuck in my head that easily/badly.)
> 
> It was a challenge I barely managed to survive.


	28. Conspiracy Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Dean:
> 
> "Bobby, I've got it real bad."
> 
> "Your first job gets you in, you don't get a second chance, Dean."
> 
> "Honestly, I think he's worth the risk."
> 
> Castiel:
> 
> "Don't forget about what I said. I could easily tell Michael if things with you and my brother go sideways."
> 
> "They won't."
> 
> "Whatever, just- be good to him."
> 
> "I will."

Dean woke up the next morning in his bed, exhausted as Jess watched him from the open door, smiling.

Dean noticed her and let out a sigh, "Whatcha doin' in here, Jess?"

"Sam was going to wake you but last time you almost bludgeoned him to death with your pillow."

"He exaggerates," Dean quipped, kicking his legs in a way that turned him on his stomach.

Her voice turned irritated, but firm, "You gave him a black eye."

"Not my fault he tried ripping the pillow from me. I didn't have a good grip."

"Regardless, we'll be late if you don't hurry. Sam says that your 'duties will miss you when you're gone'... whatever that means."

Dean felt his face flush as he remembered what he told Bobby the night before. Dean admitted he was sweet on Castiel, something he now wished wasn't set in stone now that he had said it aloud. "I'm up, I'm up."

"Good, we've got your breakfast to go."

"Oh joy," Dean muttered, getting out of bed with only his pajama pants on, Jess still watching him from the doorway. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Sam has a much better build, anyway." she shrugged, walking off.

Dean burst into a fit of giggles, closing the door and getting dressed. The girl was so frank sometimes, he couldn't tell when she was being sarcastic. That time, she was telling her opinion of the truth, though. That much was obvious. She saw the world's goodness in Sam, even when he went through dark times. Pulling on his shirt, Dean wondered to himself if it was too much to hope that he and Castiel may end up like that one day.

He shook his head, grinning, "Nah," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

Letting his gaze wander outside, he watched the mansion on the hill and felt his smile soften into something less familiar.

...

Dean ate his stale bread as he walked, watching his family make small jokes, and as if it hit him at once he noticed how their field of vision was only on what was directly ahead. They never made eye contact. Sam noticed his brother walking behind, and slowed to match his pace.

"You okay, Dean? Jess said you were really chipper this morning, did something happen between then and now?"

"Not really, it's just... have you noticed that our family, we don't have any friends in the city. Other than Bobby, that's it. Isn't that weird to you?"

"It's not exactly like we have the time, Dean."

"All the servants of angel households leave the same time that we do. Jesus, you guys could at least chat with one on the way home. The industrial workers in the West have plenty of friends, and they have to sew all friggin day, so do people in the East. Why is 'The Crown' the only place that no one wants to actually talk to each other?"

"Probably because if they revealed anything their Masters didn't want them to, they'd be executed."

"No one gets executed, Sammy."

"No, no one  _admits_  there's been executions, there is a big difference."

"I didn't know you were into conspiracy theories."

"It's not a theory."

"Regardless, you guys need some friends. Actual friends, not imaginary ones."

"I was five, Dean, don't be a dick."

"Point made."

"Whatever..." Sam huffed, walking ahead to walk with his wife as they ascended the hill to Michael's mansion.

Dean's eyes were glued to Sam's back as they entered the house. A hand held Dean back from moving further into the house, towards Castiel's room and Dean sighed in malcontent.

"Yes?"

"How rude, Squirrel, I just came to say hello."

"Where's the kid?"

"Out. Finding a servant for that half-brother of yours... Adam, right?"

"Why did you really want to talk?"

"Alright, here's the skinny: why were you going out of city boundaries to the woods?"

"I wanted to take a nature walk, so sue me."

"That's bloody-fucking bollocks and you know it, Dean." Crowley hissed, half-crossly. "What if someone else saw you on the SP?"

"Then I'd handle it."

"I know you're pal-ing around with Bobby Singer and it's gonna get you killed, mate."

"How do you know who I've been seeing?"

"A quick trip to the records room."

"Illegal-"

"-but entirely necessary, plus doing that has made me find out you aren't the records boy. So why exactly are you here?"

"Like I can trust you-"

"You could do much worse than I, Dean."

"I guess... well, ya know Balthazar?"

"Of course, we went to grade school together."

"...right, well, he has a brother and I'm his servant."

"You mean a half-brother?"

"No, I don't," A look of realization crossed Crowley's features, and an unspoken 'oh' hung on his lips. "I swear to all that is holy, if you tell anyone-"

"No worries, princess, I am a man of my word."

"You'd better hope so, you angel freak." Dean said out of malice, his chest tightening at the thought of Crowley getting Castiel killed because of him.

"Loose lips sink ships and all that, go on. No need to keep your boyfriend waiting-"

"He's not my-"

"Just go, we can play spin the bottle later."

Dean rolled his eyes, muttering foul words under his breath, striding towards Castiel's room.

Castiel was sitting on his bed, eyes looking drearily out the window when Dean made his way in quietly, unaware Castiel was out of bed. Upon turning around, and seeing Castiel awake, Dean felt himself smile as his heart wrenched.

"Hey, Cas."

Castiel turned his head towards Dean, eyes becoming soft as a smile ghosted his features, "Hello, Dean. It seems we have much to talk about."


	29. Just Inopportune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Dean felt himself smile as his heart wrenched. "Hey, Cas."
> 
> Castiel turned his head, "Hello, Dean. It seems we have much to talk about."

Dean tried to stutter out a breath but it lengthened into a sigh. Dean knew that face, he told himself, he knew it by heart. That was the face he made every time he had to explain to a poor girl that the sex they just had was meaningless, that it would never go beyond a one-night stand, that she was just another notch in the bedpost and she meant nothing to him, and they reacted differently- one cried, one had screamed, and one told him she expected no less of someone like him. Whatever he meant to Castiel, no matter how little, he didn't want it to end right there and then.

"Dean, are you alright?"

"I get it, you're going to tell me that you've sobered up and what happened the other day was a fluke."

"I- I don't understand..."

"You were drunk, and lonely from being holed up in here, I totally get it. You thought you liked me because I was the first you'd seen so-"

"You misunderstand me, I think-"

"How?"

"I wanted to talk to you about our feelings about one another."

"Can we spare the chick moment?"

"Dean, this is important, because I believe that I may have sensual feelings towards you and I thought you may feel the same for me," Dean tried to speak, striding closer but Castiel rose his hand in a yielding manner, "but I wanted to talk about this so we may be on stable ground about the whole situation."

"So you're saying you like me."

"Of course I  _like_ you, Dean, it's the matter of me having a deep adoration for you that I wish to talk about."

Dean's face heat up, "Jesus, Cas... when you say it like  _that-_ "

"Does that mean you reciprocate those feelings?"

"Let's say that I do, what does that change?"

"Nothing. It just means that our friendship is furthered and the methods used to show affection are no longer limited. I do not expect you to cater to my every whim, nor do I expect you to be unable to exhibit self-control if such a need should arise, and most importantly, I will not replace those you feel close to- whether it be your brothers or Lisa. I wish to inhabit my own portion of your heart, a special place that only I shall reside in."

"Have you ever thought of writing poetry, Cas?" Dean asked with a laugh, trying to mask how moved he had been by Castiel's words.

"I would write poems for you, if you'd wish me to."

"That's fine, Cas, your presence is more than enough... just fine." Dean embraced Castiel, the shorter boy's smile growing as he buried it in Dean's shoulder. Dean felt a bright smile light up his face as he kissed the side of Castiel's head, knowing that not only had Castiel remembered the night before, but he understood the way that Dean's mind worked. Castiel did not see Dean as crass or rude, like most others did, he saw him as an equal.

"Dean, would you like to get back to your history lesson?"

"Sure. Tell me everything you know, Cas."

Dean laid on his back next to Castiel, eyes watching as the younger boy used hand gestures in hopes to truly make point of what he was trying to explain. Castiel reiterated to Dean what he'd told his brother and Adam about the ICE project and he felt a fear rise in his throat, causing him to pause to take a breath. Dean sat up, looking at Castiel with his cloudy blue eyes and mussed hair, sensing the fear rolling off of Castiel's form.

"You okay, Cas?"

Castiel, having mentally been steeling himself for this moment all morning, decided he would tell Dean that he was the angel that Dean had saved that day in the alley- but now he was frozen in fear. If he explained that he was in town, then he would have to explain why he had been in town, he would also have to explain who he had been sneaking out over the past few weeks to see. The boy's anxiety piqued, giving him a shortness of breath, maybe now wasn't the time... just too inopportune a time.

 _Yes,_  Castiel told himself,  _another time._

"I'm alright, Dean, I just became a bit winded from speaking so much. I told you about ZEZ- or World War 3, as the humans called it- and about why angels were created, is there anything in particular you want to learn about next?"

Dean's eyes averted to the chessboard before looking back at Castiel, "Tell me about angel wings."

Castiel felt the muscles in his back tense, the muscles at the base of his wings burning from the sudden strain, "Are you sure?"

"Why not?"

"In a way, it's more dangerous to know than everything else I told you."

"How's that?"

"Wings are the only form of authority and superiority angels have over humans. If humans caught wind, there'd be an uprising."

"If our world is like you say, then wouldn't it be better to have an uprising?"

"For what? Poverty in the streets? Capitalism? Don't give me that look, Dean, I know they taught you what that means in school. The idea of capitalism and democracy is what lead the world to ruin in the first place! Everyone so worried about getting ahead that they were ready and willing to stab each other in the back to get what they wanted!"

"Cas, just tell me about the wings."

"Yes, Dean... I trust you. You will not betray my trust by telling anyone, I know that. I'm just new to trusting people."

"I know."

Castiel sighed, telling Dean everything he knew about wings he'd learned through his research and Dean watched with restrained awe. Neither knew the other was a mutt-blood angel, and both were hiding the exact same secret. They were "freaks" by angel standards.

Yes, they had taken a single step forward, but the road is long and winding. Many more moves must be made before their feelings are  _en prise_  by their own secrets. Both knew that if worse came to worse, an initiative must be taken so that no pawns are isolated, and a forced move must be made.

Castiel did not mention his own wings and it's strange mutation, but Dean seemed closer and closer to finding the truth on his own.

"Cas, you mentioned that all wings are the same..."

"Yes, more or less the same-"

"Well, isn't there any genetic mutation? I mean... it's bound to be rare but it has to happen somewhere along the line."

"It does... and it's not extremely rare as you think. It's, from my guess, about 1 mutated angel every one hundred angels."

"What kind of mutations are common?"

"Deformed wings, disproportionate wings, different feather types- although different feathers is one of the most rare mutations."

"What about an angel with only one wing?" Dean knew he was stomping on thin ice but he had to know, he had to.

"I don't have sufficient data for such a thing."

"Why not?"

"Hybrids are killed at birth."


	30. Servant Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> "What kind of mutations are common?"
> 
> "Deformed wings, disproportionate wings, different feather types-"
> 
> "What about an angel with only one wing?"
> 
> "I don't have sufficient data for such a thing."
> 
> "Why not?"
> 
> "Hybrids are killed at birth."

"Killed? Why?"

"Because they are seen as a threat, at least according to our father Metatron."

"So your dad is Metatron?"

"You're getting off-topic."

"Right, sorry. Why are they a threat?"

"They were seen as able to advocate too well for both angels and humans so they were disposed of. All family lines with them were terminated. There hasn't been a report of them in the past 40 years."

"Oh." Suddenly, it all made sense: why his parents encouraged him to hide from Michael, to keep his wing hidden, everything suddenly made sense.

"You seem a bit shocked."

"Well, yeah, I mean I thought the rumors of Michael getting people off'd was just a rumor."

"Technically, it is. Metatron did that, not Michael, but Michael has had to kill a few in the past."

"Why?"

"They were a threat to him, meaning they were a threat to the city, so they 'were disposed of'."

"That's ruthless."

Castiel's eyes seemed distant, his thoughts settling on Michael in his youth- preaching the good will of their father who could do nothing wrong in the eldest's eyes. "Ruthless, definitely, but effective."

"Cas-"

"Remove yourself, your family, from the situation and look at it from an unbiased viewpoint. You are responsible for the lives of several hundred people, stability is most important in this case. If a few people die, it's all for the greater good."

"Jesus, now you sound like my dad..."

"Dean?"

"Mhm?"

"Let's skip chess today... let's just talk."

Castiel waited for no response, leaning himself back and setting his head on his pillow. Dean followed, laying beside Castiel, Dean got a nervous grin on his face.

"We aren't gonna talk about our feelings are we?"

"No, you needn't feel obligated. We can just lay here if you want. We don't even have to talk if you don't want to. I'm just so tired..."

Castiel blinked slowly, a sleepy smile turning up the corners of his mouth as Dean ran his hand under the hem of Castiel's shirt, his fingers ghosting along his side. The pattern was rhythmic and only for comfort, Dean's forehead resting against the crown of Castiel's head. Dean hummed the beginning of a song before eventually delving into singing the lyrics softly.

"Lady luck never smiles, so send your love to me a while. Do with me what you will- break the spell, take your fill."

Castiel listened with the wonder of a child, having never heard music before and especially not by someone with such a rich voice.

"Is there anybody out there? Anybody there? Does anybody wonder? Anybody care?"

Castiel soon fell asleep and Dean followed soon after, the final words dripping from his lips, "I'm not foolin' myself." *****

...

Dean woke to the feeling of Castiel running his fingers through Dean's hair at the nape of his neck. The mutt leaned into the touch, smiling and sliding his hands to lay against Castiel's shoulder blades.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, how about you?"

"Very peaceful. I dreamed of you."

"Jesus, Cas," Dean muttered, fighting the embarrassed smile brightening his face. "How can you say that shit with a straight face?"

"I've been told that my personality is candid, and I believe that is why I'm so straightforward."

"Don't ever change." Dean was abrupt, but he meant it, he loved the calm and emotionless demeanor that Castiel sported.

"I don't plan to, Dean."

A knock sounded at the door, Dean buried his face in Castiel's shoulder, angry at the intrusion.

"Who is it?"

"Adam!"

"Go away."

Adam huffed in anger, trying the door, finding it unlocked he ushered himself in. A devious smile appeared on his lips.

"Dean and Cas, sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-"

Dean threw a pillow blindly, hitting Adam square in the chest. "Screw you."

"I came to ask Castiel about what Michael said."

"He said your servant will be delivered here today, promptly midday. His words exactly."

"So, soon?"

Castiel glanced at the window, hearing vague knocking at the main floor. "Sounds like he just arrived."

"Thanks, Cas, I owe you one!" Adam sputtered happily, closing the door behind him as he ran downstairs.

Dean felt his wing twitch against his back, in jealousy at the boy using  _his_ name for Castiel.

"Come now, Dean, let's play chess."

"I'll win this time."

"I will show no mercy." Castiel promised, untangling himself from Dean and resetting the pieces.

* * *

Adam sped down the stairs, akin to a young boy excited for the Old World tradition of Christmas, to see presents under the tree. But Adam was to be given a friend, a confidant, a servant bound to him and him alone. Adam slowed as he got closer to the bottom of the winding staircase. Thoughts raced through his mind, bringing him down from his excitement. He had, more or less, forced servitude on someone he'd never even met before. What if that person, before even meeting him, had grown to hate him? Hate him for being so spoiled that he felt the need to have someone serve him. Even if he had wanted the servant entirely for friendship, in the only form that was remotely allowed in the mansion, he had twisted someone's arm to do it.

Kevin, with his eyes cast down, talking to someone hiding at his side- looked up and gave a polite smile to Adam.

"He doesn't like new places, he's only ever lived one place in his whole life, try to make him feel welcome."

Adam nodded, "Sure."

"He'll be living with you from now on, Sir Michael has arranged for a servant's quarters in a room not far from yours."

"Good." Adam spoke curtly, trying to retain an air of authority, but it only made the boy curl further behind Kevin. "Come on, we'll take your things upstairs and get you settled. After, we'll go through our new routine."

The corner of a head peeked from behind Kevin and Kevin sniggered, pushing the boy gently ahead, "Go on."

The boy squared his shoulders and looked Adam in the eyes, trying to give off a sense of confidence, but his breath shook.

Adam wrapped a hand around the boy's wrist and lead him upstairs, "I'm Adam, age 12, do not call me 'sir', 'sire', 'highness', or whatever bullshit everyone tells you to call me. You will call me Adam, and that alone. Am I making myself clear?"

The taller boy gulped behind him, nodding, "Very."

"What's your name, then?" Adam asked, smiling at him before walking again towards his room, the boy in tow.

"Alfred Samandriel Foster."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> The song Dean sings, geez if you don't know this I doubt your sanity lol
> 
> It's: "Foolin' " by Def Leppard
> 
> Also, I am SO SORRY for the late update, my internet has been on the fritz and I couldn't update on time.


	31. Samandriel Foster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Adam & Samandriel:
> 
> "I'm Adam, age 12.  
> Do not call me 'sir', 'sire', 'highness', or whatever bullshit everyone tells you to call me.  
> You will call me Adam, and that alone. Am I making myself clear?"
> 
> "Very."
> 
> "What's your name, then?"
> 
> "Alfred Samandriel Foster."

"Foster? That's a strange last name."

"It's the last name given to any orphan."

"I'm sorry... How old are you, Alfie?"

"12."

"But you're so much taller than me!"

"I grow fast," Samandriel muttered, embarrassed.

"No need to be shy around me, Alfie. You aren't here as my servant, but as my friend."

"Then why-"

"I can't leave the mansion, so the only way anyone is allowed in is if I have a servant. Hence, you."

"But why me?"

"I didn't choose you, Kevin did, so there must be something special he sees in you."

"I doubt he sees anything important."

"Kevin does, I swear. He wouldn't look at me the way he did if you weren't special. Here's a change of clothes and- Whoa! What are those?"

Samandriel flinched in surprise as Adam played with the tiny wings attached to his back.

"They're so tiny!"

"Please don't touch them," Samandriel looked down in shame, the wings fluttering slightly behind him.

"They're half a foot across and like 5 inches tall! That's around an eighth of the normal size for wings. "

"I'm ashamed of them, everyone at the orphanage hated me for them."

"I think they're great." Adam smiled, stroking his fingers across the blue and green feathers. "Wait just one second."

Adam rummaged through his bookshelves until he brought out a dusty book that smelled vaguely of wet paper.

"What's that?"

"Trying to see what kind of wings you have. Looks like," Adam muttered, scouring the glossary until landing on the page he wanted, flipping carefully to a page in the middle of the book. "Macaw feathers. Well, that explains it," Adam muttered, his thumb and forefinger stroking down the plumage as he pinched individual feathers between his fingers. "You know, Macaw feathers have clear and hollow bases. 'The colors of the Macaws used to be a beautiful grace, a gift, to the rainforest. The green, hidden in the blue, the shade of freshly grown moss- the blue the shade of bright sodalite. How beautiful it must have been, to watch the sky turn the colors of red and orange. How soft the grass must have been, when the rain fell solely on untouched earth. What a world it must have been.' What a thought."

"What?"

"I was quoting a poem. It's called Mountain Fairways by Rudy Nygel *****. I love her work."

"I thought Old World books were forbidden."

"No one knows but us now, Alfie. It's our secret."

"I understand."

"What district are you from? Is the city head Gabriel or Lucifer?"

"I am from the agriculture city, Gabriel leads."

"That explains it. You're nicer than I assumed, great, so I'm going to leave you to pack away your suitcase. Your room should be next to mine. I'll go get us something to eat and after that I'll show you around."

"I thought you were going to show me my routine chores?"

"I was just saying that. The only thing you have to do is put up with me." Adam grinned, leaving his room to go to the kitchen.

Samandriel felt himself smile. He felt his packed canvas bag weighing down his shoulder, reminding him that the wonders around him were, in fact, real and that this wasn't a dream. For the first time in a long time, he felt himself buzz with hope.

Quietly, Samandriel left Adam's room and entered his own through the adjoining bathroom. The room was small, with only a bed and an end table with a few shelves for clothes. The room was nice, the boy thought, setting his pack on the bed as he took the clothes out gingerly. He thanked his lucky stars that he had a room to himself for the first time in his life. The orphanage was nice, almost everyone was kind-hearted but the atmosphere was suffocating.

Samandriel was a good boy. He always ate what the Mothers put in front of him, regardless of how bland it tasted, or how full he was, he kept his head down and did as he was told. He helped the younger boys how to sew like the older boys had taught him as a child, and he taught the girls how to harvest vegetables from the small garden on the grounds. He walked the younger children to school and returned promptly to help the Mothers with laborious tasks. Carrying in supplies for the children to its place once it was dropped off from the market by Uriel, a former roommate of his, a boy too old to live in the orphanage now.

Samandriel liked the monotony of the work, helping the widows who raised him and the other children. Only 3 women managed to take care of 20 children and he had them to thank for being alive. Helping them with tasks that would pain them in their advancing age gave him great joy, even if he had to miss school to do so. He quit school 2 years before he was supposed to, but orphans had the privilege so they could help their Mothers if they felt the need to.

Most chose to go to school. Only Samandriel and Hael stayed at the home during the day, the quiet girl spent her days silent as she cleaned the house and made the childrens' beds and picked up their laundry to be washed in the basin outside the house. Samandriel only spoke to her once, to ask her why she continued to wash the clothes every day even though her hands were blistered and looked much older than they should have. Her only response was a soft, calculated: "I am not an angel, therefore I must serve those who shelter me." She never spoke to anyone again, only small nods and subservient smiles that were laced with sadness.

Samandriel closed the drawer, his good mood waning. He knew he was thinking too much into his past, but a past is crucial to one's future. Mother Hannah always told him that he thought too much into things, her eyes unfazed by the wings that separated him from everyone else. The young children never gave it a second thought, but eventually they all treated him like the older children did- with scorn and silent disgust. They were jealous, Mother Hannah told him- a week before being found by Kevin as he worked in the garden with dirt caking his brow- that they did not understand how a boy so good could be an angel, so loving, see everyone as equals, and yet not act above the rest.

Adam placed the tray of food on the small table, startling Samandriel. "Sorry, are you homesick? I guess I never thought to ask."

"No, but I will be once the reality sinks in," Samandriel admitted.

"Alright, well, let's eat. I'm sure you're hungry. If you want to, you can tell me about the Foster House. Kevin told me it was really nice when I bumped into him on the way here."

"Yes..." Samandriel said with a brief smile, remembering the young boys and girls to waved happy goodbyes to him just several hours before. "It was very nice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> *I made up the poem and author, any similarities to people living or dead was unintentional.
> 
> ALSO, this is the side-ship if you couldn't figure that out. Since they're kids their to-be romance will just be implied FOR OBVIOUS REASONS (I don't condone kiddysex or 'physical' relationships until at least age 16, but that's just me. Boku no Pico is not my cup of tea.) and they may get a oneshot at some point when they're about Dean's age in this story which will be fluff cuz I love writing fluff.


	32. One Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Dean & Castiel:
> 
> "Come now, Dean, let's play chess."
> 
> "I'll win this time."
> 
> "I will show no mercy."

 

As Castiel had promised, he did not show mercy to Dean as he had in previous games. However, Dean was learning, getting better, and the thought made Castiel smile.

"You're doing well."

"Thank you."

Dean's thoughts strayed to Michael and his task assigned to him. A small twitch coursed through his left hand as he realized Castiel, unknowingly had made a mistake, one Dean hesitated to sieze. What if Castiel had done it on purpose? Dean was sure he hadn't, but if so then he could easily be stepping right into a trap. He moved his hand without a second thought, capturing Castiel's bishop.

"Check."

Castiel's eyes flickered in surprise, "Oh. It seems I left that open."

"Rookie mistake, Cas. You didn't do that on purpose?"

"No. Not a mistake, a miscalculation."

"Then make your move, Cas." Dean muttered, slightly irritated at the sudden cryptic air Castiel had taken with his words.

Castiel moved his knight forward and captured a pawn, his king open for capture. Dean was irritated and captured Castiel's king with a muttered checkmate.

"Why didn't you move your king?"

"No matter how I'd moved it he would've been captured eventually, all my options were taken thanks to my carelessness. It seems I am not a worthy opponent anymore-"

"Cas, that's-"

The door opened with force, the door handle bouncing loudly off the wall, Michael stepping into the room. "Castiel," Michael stopped in his tracks, confusion settling on the board game between the two boys. "You've been beaten in chess. How peculiar. Regardless, what is your servant doing playing chess when he should be cleaning your room before my mother and father get here."

"I needed someone to play with seeing as Balthazar is not here."

"Where did he go off to this time?"

"I don't believe I'm at liberty to say."

"Cut with the formalities, where is that dull brother of yours?"

"Our brother. He's your brother too."

"Fine, shield him, Castiel. But you are insane if you think I would claim the child of a whore as my brother-"

Dean interjected, his fist ready at his lap, squeezing tightly to suppress the urge to lash out at Michael. "Half-brothers are just as family as blood, Mike. A wise man always used to tell me family don't end in blood and he's right. You're in the wrong here."

"You have a lot of nerve talking to me that way, servant." Michael raised his hand, poised to give Dean a firm smack but Dean held eye contact, unafraid as Castiel mumbled apologies to Michael under his panic. "No servant has spoken to me that way, Winchester, what makes you so special?"

"I like to think it's cause of my perky nipples," Dean chuffed, sarcasm laced in his tone.

Michael's expression cracked the smallest smile before returning to its neutral state. "When you have the time, boy, you may visit me in my chambers. You have a sharp sense of humor, not many can appreciate that. Maybe you're lucky enough to become my servant, if you have the guts."

Dean's jaw set, his pupils flaring in fear. This was his chance, his chance to get in, he had a few seconds to decide whether he chose family or Cas. Choosing one to damn the other.

Dean's thoughts drifted to Sam and the "breeding" obligation to start in just 2 short years, the obligation to try having children at which point the extra food is definitely needed. The choice, to Dean, was clear.

"I have the guts, the real question is whether or not I can be broken."

"I'll take that into account, Ponyboy, I'll mull it over. Continue your petty games, Castiel, I have to go meet the former king and queen momentarily. Keep this bug out of sight, am I making myself clear, Dean?"

"Yes, sir." Dean answered, heart twinging at Michael's insensitivity in calling Castiel a bug, the door closing with finality and a sad look stuck on Castiel's face.

"I thought you weren't leaving," Castiel whispered.

"I don't understand what you-"

"You're leaving me, to be my brother's servant... after all that just happened!"

"Cas, no, it's not like that! It's just... that's the job I originally came here for, remember? I focused so hard on getting healthy all these years in hopes to one day serve Michael." The lie dripped too easily from his tongue and the itch it brought made Dean feel queasy, "It's what I'm meant to do."

"I won't say you can't... because I can't force you; and I won't say you shouldn't, because there's no reason why you shouldn't... but there's so much we could be if you stayed with me. We may be secret but the consequences are worth it, Dean, I know they are." Castiel's eyes misted over as Dean restrained from reaching a hand out to touch him.

Just the night before he was thinking the exact same things, but he had his family to worry about and Castiel was much more than he deserved.

_He made his choice. Job comes first. Who would love a mutt anyway?_  These thoughts were the only ones circulating through his mind as he watched Castiel's eyes brim with tears, the tiny droplets falling into his lap.  _You can not have both,_  Dean reminded himself,  _you **can not**  have both._

"He said to think it over, so I'll think it over a day or two, Cas. It doesn't change what you mean to me."  _Maybe if I drag this out,_ Dean told himself,  _I can tell him goodbye before everything goes south. I can show him how much I really do care before stabbing him in the back... God is unjust, he is dead, and probably laughing from his fallen throne._

_Cas, I love you, forgive me._

_..._

Even though it'd been minutes since Michael left the room, the atmosphere was leaden and heavy. Dean felt as though he was struggling to breathe. Castiel's tears continued to fall and he watched the chess pieces with soulless eyes, his face void of any kind of distortion in facial expression.

"Cas, look at me."

"I don't want to."

"Cas."

"No."

"You're acting like a child."

"I'm sorry that I'm upset over losing the only person in my life who hasn't treated me different. I'm sorry that I started all of this. If I'd just ignored Adam and what I felt, I wouldn't have grown attached."

"Cas-"

"I wouldn't have gotten so close-"

Dean walked closer, frowning, "Cas."

"And I wouldn't have become so crestfallen over someone who barely even knows me."

Dean's anger flared, "Cas, you say one more word and I'm out of that door."

Castiel became silent, his face finally changing into one of sorrow, his silent cries turning into sobs. Dean kneeled on the floor and placed his hands on Castiel's cheeks, eyes trying to find his- desperately trying to fix his own mistake. At the touch, Castiel's shaking stopped as he took uneasy inhales, leaning into Dean's touch.

"Now that you're calming down, tell me what I don't know. What is bothering you so much as to think that I don't know you as well as I think I do?"

"I'm angel, Dean. I'm one of them."


	33. Dark Horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> "Now that you're calming down, tell me what I don't know. What is bothering you so much as to think that I don't know you as well as I think I do?"
> 
> "I'm angel, Dean. I'm one of them."

Dean felt denial hit him in waves. Castiel- his Castiel- couldn't be an angel, he told himself, not no way and not no how. However, Dean knew he was lying to himself. He'd seen the signs. He hid the same way Castiel did, though Castiel's hiding now seemed more obvious. He knew it was bias of hindsight but he felt dull for not noticing before. How could he have missed it?

The way Castiel always kept his shoulders slouched forward slightly, to bear the weight of wings on his back, the way he always had a look of focus, even when doing something as meager as eating. Suddenly it all became clear and Dean wanted out. This was not what he signed up for. He did not want to be with an angel by any means. But this was Cas, Dean told himself, he's different.

Dean reached out and felt the space behind Castiel's back, the feeling of soft feathers meeting his hand in the air. The feathers were soft to the touch, but felt nothing like Adam's. Castiel watched Dean nervously from the corner of his eye, deciding to put all of this on the line- because then, maybe, Dean would stay. Not out of feeling of obligation, but because there would be no lies between them, or so Castiel thought.

Castiel allowed himself the will to show his wings, as black as the shadows that filled every nook and cranny of the town below. Dean felt himself swallow, Castiel had a mutation too, but his seemed much more important. Genetic mutations are fairly common, but only someone from an impure line of angels can have a mutation.

These wings, Dean realized, were kept hidden for a reason. No angel in history has been born with black wings, the only person in history depicted with black wings were a myth in the Old World. The angel was seen as a traitor and was cast out of their Holy Land, being forced into the role of evil because of the feeling of hurt lingering in their body.

"Can you open them?"

Castiel nodded, letting them unfurl, "Do you understand why I kept this from you, Dean?"

"You could be a threat to Michael's reign, a dark horse."

"Exactly. Now that I've told you, I think you need time to think about it. Go to the records room and have a look around, Michael doesn't have to know."

"You sure?" Dean found himself saying, his wing wanting to splutter into sight. Dean held his will and kept the feeling at bay.

"Yes, Balthazar is to be returning today. I won't be alone. Plus, Lucifer and Gabriel should be returning today. I'll be fine, Dean."

He wasn't too sure, his heart in his throat, but he bowed and strode out of the room before his body betrayed him and allowed him to cling to Castiel. He went into the basement, the door opening after a budge or two. The room smelt like charred paper and mold. Dean wrinkled his nose in distaste and took a look at all of the albums and censuses piled haphazardly around the room. Well, at least it would give him something to do, he conceded, picking up boxes to begin organizing them.

* * *

Castiel watched the draped windows with a sense of abandon. He had sprung too quickly, his usual tact gone. With Dean, it seemed, nothing seemed to be the right way to go about it. Castiel hadn't thought much about Balthazar since he'd left a few days before, because he knew if he did, he would stop him. Balthazar doesn't want to be reassured, consoled, and definitely not stopped. So Castiel waited by the window, his eyes glued to the edge of the property, waiting for the sight of his brother walking up the hill.

* * *

Crowley stood at the front of the house with Kevin, awaiting the arrival of Metatron and his "beloved" wife. They arrived fairly quickly, Metatron stepping out of his carriage with modest clothes and an impish smile and his wife with a bored expression, adjusting the pristine fur coat around her shoulders. Kevin greeted them cordially, Crowley keeping his eyes downcast as he opened the front doors for them.

"Gabriel and Lucifer will arrive soon with their charges." Crowley informed them, to which Metatron just nodded and headed up towards Michael's quarters.

Abaddon stayed behind, watching Crowley with a keen eye as Kevin shut the doors. Crowley felt his palms sweat but his face gave away no sign of distress at the dissecting gaze. Kevin watched silently, memories of Crowley's words returning in waves.

"You seem familiar. Have we met before?"

"I don't believe so, Madam," Crowley answered, his eyes refusing to meet hers. "I've only been hired to this household in the past year."

"No, I do remember you. Fergus. Fergus McCloud."

"No ma'am. My name is Crowley."

"I'm not stupid, I know when someone is lying to me. I won't tell on you, but do not ever tell me no again. Am I making myself quite clear?"

"Yes, m'um." Crowley muttered, Kevin watching in sympathy as Abaddon made her way up the stairs.

"You okay?" Kevin asked, putting a hand on Crowley's arm, the man flinching at the touch.

"You know I'm not superstitious, Kev, but there is no way she could remember my name on a typical day. There's a storm brewing, Kevin, I don't wanna be here to see it."

Kevin chuckled halfheartedly, hooking his arm with Crowley's, "Let's get some lunch, forget about her."

Crowley nodded limply, allowing Kevin to lead him to the kitchen, "Thanks, Kev."

* * *

Balthazar made his way slowly through the mansion, taking his time to ascend the stairs and enter Castiel's chambers. He was a little pale and off-balance, but a smile graced his features and Castiel sat his older brother on the bed.

"So... it's done?"

"Have a look."

Castiel raised the back of his brother's shirt gingerly, and felt a lump in his throat at the sight of the scabbed mounds on his back where his wings used to be.

"Are you happy now, Balthazar?"

"Happier than I've ever been."

"So what will you do now? You can't stay in the house."

"I'm sorry, Castiel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> I do apologize for the constant POV changes but a lot of things are happening at once and each group of characters are important in their own respect.
> 
> That being said, the main character sets (and their nicknames) in the next chapter or so will be:
> 
> *The Angelic Council with King and Queen of Douchebaggery
> 
> *The Novak Boys
> 
> *The Secret-Angelic-Police-Squad (The SAPS)
> 
> *Young Love (Samandriel and Adam cuz they cute af)
> 
> Dean and the other Winchesters may be... unaccounted for a while since I need to develop all these damn subplots I forced myself into Dx
> 
> Needless to say the most focus in all of these will be on TAC and the KAQOD because this whole angel-meeting-for-the-future-of-Arya is kiiinnnnda a mega-huge deal. So there's, you know, that.
> 
> ALSO.
> 
> If you have spare time before the next update:
> 
> RE-READ THE FIC.
> 
> Any seemingly strange un-explained occurances and plotholes are there ON PURPOSE.
> 
> They are there for you to be suspicious- don't just assume I'm making this up as I go!
> 
> Feel free to comment or PM me any theories about the plot holes.
> 
> I love conspiracy theories.


	34. O' Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> ...
> 
> Dean & Castiel
> 
> "You could be a threat to Michael's reign, a dark horse."
> 
> "Go to the records room and have a look around."
> 
> "You sure?"
> 
> "I'll be fine, Dean."
> 
> Crowley, Metatron, Abaddon, and Kevin
> 
> "Have we met before?"
> 
> "I don't believe so,"
> 
> "No, I do remember you."
> 
> "No ma'am."
> 
> "There's a storm brewing, Kevin, I don't wanna be here to see it."
> 
> Castiel & Balthazar
> 
> Castiel saw the scabbed mounds on Balthazar's back where his wings used to be.
> 
> "Are you happy now, Balthazar?"
> 
> "Happier than I've ever been."
> 
> "So what will you do now? You can't stay in the house."
> 
> "I'm sorry, Castiel."

"Sorry won't bring your wings back, Balthazar."

"If they did, I would never apologize again."

Castiel crossed his arms, "You never apologize."

"I just did."

"Your apology was empty and we both know you didn't mean it."

"I was sick of those stupid wings, Castiel, they only gave me grief!"

Castiel felt his wings seemingly rip from their cloaking as his voice tore within his throat, "Well at least you didn't have to hide yours! I am a _freak_ , Balthazar, and a bastard- you have no idea how it feels to _hide_ such a large portion of who you are! To lock yourself in a room every day in absolute _fear_ that if you don't, Michael will stroll in here like he did that day with a whip at the ready and a fist itching to break your bones. You _watched_ as he beat me half to death, Balthazar! You did nothing to stop him and now I live in constant fear that the day will come again!"

"You were thirteen! You could've fought back!"

Castiel's eyes brimmed with angry, frustrated tears, "I know you were afraid of him- almost as much as I was- but Balthazar, you were supposed to protect me from him!"

"Castiel... you're my brother," Balthazar's voice lowered, his tone returning to one of patience as his younger brother used his fist to wipe away his tears like a child. "I do care about you... but I had to protect myself from his wrath. You were just a kid... his rage would eventually burn out at the sight of a bleeding little boy. I wasn't as small as you, kiddo," Balthazar pulled Castiel into a loose hug as the younger boy watched the floor with a rare anger skewing his features. "He could've killed me if I intervened. You know how his temper was, even more so when he tried to impress Father..."

Castiel continued to say nothing, his eyes glued to the floor, "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out! Go! If you want to be a human, go join them! Leave me to fend for myself! I'm big now and I can deal with whatever is thrown at me so just leave! I don't need you anymore!"

Balthazar let go of Castiel, soundless as he left the room to inform the council he was enforcing an act of self-exile to the outer-rings of Arya.

* * *

Dean finished his first box of many, having sorted them alphabetically and then by date, his mind pausing for a brief second to return to Castiel. Then, the idea dawned on him. Castiel was the angel he had saved in the alley before he came to work for Michael, he had felt the familiarity in Castiel's presence before and now it suddenly made sense to his wandering mind.

"Jesus..." he muttered to himself, sighing as he slumped to the floor to start on a new box.

Dean absolutely did not believe in destiny, but a coincidence such as the one he was being faced with was hard to ignore. He needed to think more about his decision. Should he choose Castiel, his "destiny", or should he choose his family and kill an angel, living on the run?

* * *

 Kevin watched Crowley with a concerned expression, the twenty-something year old poking at his food with a fork.

"Something's bothering you, spill your guts, Crowley."

"I heard something... _unsavory_ a few days ago from an officer in the city. He told me something and I don't know for sure... but I think that whatever it is, Abaddon is starting something we may not be able to prevent."

"What do you mean?"

"An uprising."

* * *

 Gabriel and Lucifer met at the front gate to Central Arya, opting to share Gabriel's carriage for the ride there. Lucifer and his charge, Charlie, did not speak to one another- her eyes glassy and watching the world outside the window. Gabriel had his eyes glued to Jeremiah, their voices speaking in whispers, breathless and secretive. Charlie did not miss how Gabriel's hand rested on Jeremiah's, or how he affectionately played with the ends of the boy's hair.

They'd admit their feelings soon enough, Charlie told herself, judging by the letters she and Jeremiah had exchanged for the past few months.

Lucifer simply thought to himself about how much he really needed a drink. Now, if only he could do what Castiel could and hide his wings, he thought to himself, then he could go into the local bar. Then, if he got drunk enough, maybe he could get laid by an attractive barkeep or customer. His thoughts drifted even further in the gutter as his mind drifted elsewhere.

Charlie noticed a girl walking out of a building with a large garbage bag and putting it in the outdoor trash can. Long blonde hair wavy and gliding across her face, hiding her features. Charlie's eyes were glued to the girl as she put a tuft of hair behind her ear. Noticing the carriage, the girl's eyes locked with Charlie's and the blonde smiled, giving a small wave.

Well, Charlie thought pleasantly as she smiled shamelessly, it seems as though it's become worth the trip after all.

* * *

Metatron and Abaddon sat at the council table with Michael across them, Balthazar entering the room without knocking. Metatron stood with a sickly-sweet smile.

"Hello, son. Wait-" his expression turned cold. "What happened to your wings?"

"I got them surgically removed."

"When were you planning on mentioning this to me?" Michael ordered, standing from his seat.

"No need to get up. I just came to inform you I am exiling myself, so you don't have to. Give your boys my regards."

"Why would you do such a thing to yourself?" Abaddon spoke up, asking as if the event did not surprise her at all.

"What's the point of a social symbol if you're a bastard with no future?"

"Proceed, Balthazar, and survive well in the Outskirts." she replied, wiggling her fingers in a goodbye.

Balthazar did not say another word to them or take any of his things from his room, he just left- waving goodbye to Lucifer, Charlie, Jeremiah, and Gabriel as they walked in- intending to never return to the mansion again.


	35. Breeding Laws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> ...
> 
> Crowley and Kevin
> 
> "Abaddon is starting something we may not be able to prevent."
> 
> "What do you mean?"
> 
> "An uprising."
> 
> ...
> 
> Michael and Balthazar
> 
> "I am exiling myself, so you don't have to. Give your boys my regards."
> 
> "Proceed, Balthazar, and survive well in the Outskirts."

 

Gabriel entered with his brother Lucifer, their respective charges following with their heads bowed in respect. Though, neither harbored any true respect for Michael. After an awkward greeting between Lucifer, Gabriel, and their parents, the two wards were dismissed to do as they wished.

Charlie pulled Jeremiah aside, eyeing him with a knowing grin.

"Have you kissed yet?"

"W-what?"

"You and Gabby, have you? Or- you know,  _further._ "

" _Charlie. I'm only seventeen._ " he hissed, embarrassed.

Her eyes flashed with mirth, "Yeah, well the humans get knocked up at age 14. Albeit have to by law but... What's stopping you?"

"Haven't found the right person?" he said unsurely.

"Gabby fits the bill."

"No, I will not-"

"Those Old World studies have got your head on backwards. There's no need to be afraid now. Liking boys isn't a bad thing."

"But my dad said-"

"Your dad's not here. This world functions just fine with those who like their own gender, they have a system for it. If you like him, pursue him, before someone else does."

"I guess you're right, Charlie."

"Pssh, of course I'm right. Now, let's go out and do something."

"Like what?"

"Well, if you wouldn't hate me too much for it. I'm over my broken heart and I need a wingman."

"You haven't been here an hour and you already saw someone?"

"A girl on the ride here, she was gorgeous. Please, Jer. I need to get my mind off of Charles."

"I told you she was trouble," Jeremiah muttered, allowing Charlie to lead him towards the main staircase.

"You did, and I didn't listen. But that doesn't matter. I knew she had her doubts going in. It was fun while it lasted."

"You know, you're right. Screw my dad, Gabe is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me and I need him."

Walking through the front doors of the mansion, Charlie's arm looped through his, "Believe me, Jer. He needs you too."

* * *

Michael was the first to speak, his form embraced by Arya beaming it's rusty colors through the window.

"I've called this meeting because I heard you and Mother were in town, so I assumed you would like to comment on our work done in your absence."

Metatron's smile was sweet, as it had been before Balthazar's news, "I am very proud of the three of you, you have all done an amazing job."

"Thank you, Father. Now, since that has been settled. What shall I do with the bastard Castiel?"

* * *

Walking through the city, people met their eyes, unafraid of the young angels. Charlie found herself explaining all the in's and out's of the breeding requirements to Jeremiah, who never actually cared about the subject until Charlie's comment beforehand.

"Yeah, so like I said before; same-sex couples are totally game. Let me give you the skinny on that. The same-sex couples break off into quads and 'breed' so the gene lines will continue. The practice is not unusual and government-condoned since Metatron's time. For example, let's say there's Couple A: Alex and Emily then there's Couple B: Jude and Connor. Alex will have a child with Connor to fulfill Couple A's 'breeding' requirement. Couple A keeps the baby, and once the quota comes around for Couple B, the favor will be returned."

Jeremiah nodded, eyes watching everyone as Charlie spoke.

"Oh, asexuals- I forgot to mention their breeding role! How silly of me. They are the city's caregivers and orphanage Parents. They are not required to breed. Like Michael's police force, they all live together in one facility and take care of children and make house calls in case of urgency. They're the backbone of keeping the children population afloat. If a child is orphaned, then one of the Parents take care of them all in one place. The caregivers do routine inspections of conditions to insure family health and safety as well as making sure there are no signs of abuse."

Jeremiah's back ached, his stitches pulling, and Charlie stopped with a pained look on her face.

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me."

"No it wasn't, you didn't mean it that way. Come on, let's hurry and meet this girl. Before it gets too late."

Charlie nodded, nervously wrapping both hands around the boy's bicep, "I hope she likes me."

* * *

Kevin leaned forward, hissing through clenched teeth, "What the hell do you mean ' _an uprising'_?!"

"I mean, darling boy, that if my theory is correct- then she has the same idea as Michael did when he created his own black market. To create the best machine, you must work on the inside, unnoticed. Meaning she's getting someone to do her dirty work and there's a very low chance of angels surviving if the humans rise up against us. We are just as human as they are, Kev- If you prick us, do we not bleed? This would not end well for anyone. There would be no government, no order, and these cities would be piled high with walls of corpses."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> Just a clarification. I did say I don't condone "underage" sex. That still stands. But I should be clear.
> 
> When I said sex I was well aware that their "breeding" age starts at 14 but the reason why the age starts so young is to correlate with puberty ages. It is "obligatory" but only for those who have both hit puberty (it's different for each gender and individual). The 'breeding' is done to create a workforce, and the breeding can be excused if the girl cannot physically bear the baby without bodily harm or if the boy's family already has the maximum amount of occupants in his household (6).
> 
> This is just a story, so my personal morality is entirely separate from that.
> 
> (Plus, I've read Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and studied Freud at one point so the whole underage sexuality thing is totally unfazing to me. Boku no Pico is just wrong though, tbh. Anyhow, I don't understand sex anyway cuz I'm asexual soooo take this and shove it xD)


	36. Madame Abbadon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> ...
> 
> Council
> 
> "Now, since that has been settled. What shall I do with the bastard Castiel?"
> 
> ...
> 
> Jeremiah and Charlie
> 
> "Gabe is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me and I need him."
> 
> "Believe me, Jer. He needs you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> Yes, I know this story is all over the place and I'm really sorry if you get confused but it's all pretty important so bear with me, okay?

"Come on, let's hurry and meet this girl. Before it gets too late."

"I hope she likes me."

"What do you mean, do with him? Jesus, Michael, he's our brother."

"You may claim him as kin, but I will do no such thing. Especially not now that I find out he's been sneaking off and going into the town. Apparently he's been seen by at least ten humans."

"When?" Metatron asked in a tone of boredom, as if he was asking solely for the sake of asking.

"I'd say about a week ago. The guard said humans reported seeing a boy matching Castiel's description leaving the center of town, walking towards the mansion, covered in blood."

"Why are we only hearing about this now, Michael? You should have terminated the problem the second it arose. People will think you have gone soft! And what if they find out who he is and if he's an angel? Will you be able to keep him from running into the arms of the humans?" Metatron hissed through gritted teeth.

Abaddon smiled lazily, as if she thought of something funny. "Did you find out why he left the mansion?"

"No, it's not as though I can ask him, Mother. He would immediately deny it." Michael said, his upper lip curling in anger.

"You have intimidation, Michael. You beat him as a child for a reason, fear. Instilling fear in that boy so he would never dare cross you," Metatron yelled, slamming his fist on the table. "Don't tell me you think this boy as important to you?"

Gabriel, his face in his hands, was at a loss for words. There was nothing he could say that would help. He looked at Lucifer who exhaled in exasperation, the phrase must I do everything poised on his tongue.

"You don't understand, Dad. He is important. He is one of the best strategists in the entirety of Arya. If you had ever seen him play chess, you would understand. On days my tutor was sick, I would watch him play against Balthazar for hours upon hours. Even as a child, he had a mind for strategy. Every piece was put to use, not one went to waste. If he were to go to the side of the humans, we would lose an asset- our best asset- and one of the most charismatic pawns we have in our arsenal. That being said, fear is not the answer- love is. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and all that."

The room was silent as they all thought it over. The eerie quiet dragged on for minutes until Michael cleared his throat.

"You're right, Lucifer. We cannot lose his allegiance. Go to him and make him aware that I have revoked my request for his servant and that he may roam the house as he pleases, as long as he does not leave the immediate backyard, facing away from the city. You may inform those who work in this mansion of his existence, but that his existence may not leave the premises."

Lucifer nodded, "Once again, you have made a wise decision, brother. Gabriel, go and tell the cooks to make us all some food for this meeting."

Gabriel did a mock-salute with two fingers, "Yeah, boss."

Leaving at the same time, they walked through the hall in the same direction.

"Could you kiss his ass any more than you did just now?" Gabriel groaned.

"One must be a knave to have a place at the Queen's table."

"Was that a metaphor or literal?" Gabriel asked, pulling a chocolate square from a small box in his pocket.

"Both, I'm afraid. Both."

Michael watched them leave with narrowed eyes, Abaddon taking it upon herself to restart the conversation.

"What if I told you two, that I knew exactly where he was that nights he snuck out and the day he was seen? And that I had proof of it?"

"I'd say that you are signing Castiel's death warrant." Metatron mused.

"Come on, Charlie, we're here- don't get cold feet now."

"I don't have cold feet," she snapped, "Do I look okay?"

He gave her a quick once-over, glancing from her battered sneakers to her semi-loose jeans, to her green canvas jacket and grey undershirt and her hair pulled into a low ponytail.

"Take your hair down, it looks better down, and smile. Frowning does not suit you."

She took her hair down, taking a deep breath.

"I know, I'm not acting like myself but oh my god if you could see her smile."

"Hopefully I will when you actually get the nerve to go inside." he urged, pushing her toward the door and through it when she tried to bolt.

"Methinks, the lady doth protest too much," he whispered, pushing Charlie into a booth.

"That was out of order, genius," he quipped, causing Jeremiah to roll his eyes. "and you used it in the wrong context."

"Whatever. There's food here, and Gabriel gave me extra ration cards last week. So we can feast."

"Well, I want-" Charlie started then stopped, her eyes following the girl with the long blonde hair. "I want a side order of blonde, oh my god, look at her. Oh, Jer, I'm in trouble."

Jeremiah looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse when the girl turned and gave him a smile. He motioned for her to come over, and she put up her index finger in reply, mouthing 'gimme a second'. He nodded and turned at Charlie who watched the girl with a goofy smile and dreamy eyes. The blonde walked over a few seconds later with a small notepad in hand, and a grin aimed at Jeremiah.

"I thought that was you, how ya doin', 'Miah?"

"Jo, seriously? Don't call me that," he whined.

"Oh, I get it, only your angel beau can call you that. I get it, so what will you and Red have to drink?"

Charlie watched the exchange with a gaping expression.

Jeremiah answered for her, noticing her speachless state, "We'll both just take a glass of water, and we'll take a jumbo order of fries to start."

Jo smiled, her eyes glancing over at Charlie before an eyebrow quirks in interest. "Want catsup with that order, Hoss?"

"Don't I always?"

Putting her graphite pencil behind her ear, closing her notepad, she shifted her weight to one foot, settling her hand on one hip, grinning. "Mom, Fluffy Feathers wants his usual!"

A voice from behind the bar laughed, "Comin' right up!"

"Jo, why don't you have a seat? We never really get to talk anymore."

"No kidding," Jo muttered, patting Charlie's thigh to get her to move over. "Gabriel is chasing you like a dog in heat."

"Took 'em long enough, they're both as stubborn and dense as they come." Charlie muttered, watching Jo from the corner of her eye.

"No kidding," the blonde smiled, glancing over at the redhead beside her. "I'm Jo, and who are you?"

"I'm Charlie."

"You're the carriage girl," Jo smiled, cradling her face in her hand.

Charlie, noticing the turn in conversation, turned on her charms. "You're the girl with the brilliant smile," she grinned, moving a thick lock of hair from the girl's shoulder.

Jo, catching the glint in Charlie's eye, scooted closer. "Is it, really?"

"Prettiest I've ever seen, wanna go on a date?"

Jeremiah mock-gagged, unbeknownst to the two girls.

"Sure, I know a place."

"I'll pick you up at sunset, we can have a picnic."

Jo smiled, "Okay, I'll meet you outside the roadhouse then. Your fries should be ready. My shift's about over, so I'll see you then."

Once Jo left the table, Jeremiah gave Charlie a sour look. "I support you, I do. But you're an angel, she's not. The order of things..."

"I'm a mutt, Jer, my mom and my dad were both human. Mutts don't have to breed with angels. Especially not if you have a same-sex partner. We haven't even held hands, there's no need to put the cart before the horse."

Jeremiah shrugged, his thoughts returning to Gabriel, "Just be careful, baby sister."

"I always am." Charlie smiled, taking a bite of a fry in the basket Ellen set in front of them. "Don't worry, I'll use protection. "

"Charlie!", he sputtered, choking on a fry.


	37. Tomorrow's Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> ...
> 
> Kevin and Crowley
> 
> "I mean, darling boy, that if my theory is correct- these cities will be piled high with walls of corpses."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I have no excuse other than I had no computer access and AO3 is a total bitch trying to upload on mobile. Next update will hopefully be on time, if not check the other sites I post on (Which are always on time)  
> -FANFICTION.NET  
> -wattpad.com

"Crowley, that's insane. There's no way she could create a civil war, it would kill everyone. Not just angels."

"I don't know her motives but that's what she seems to want."

"Why?  _She's_ an angel _._ That makes absolutely no sense, you get that, right?"

"Well, the only idea I can come up with is that there's something she wants out of this. Maybe she wants the throne back, she used to be a force to be reckoned with but now that she's just 'Mother of the Kings', she's not seen as a threat anymore. That has to be a hard hit to her pride."

"She's willing to risk everyone's lives just so she can restore her foolish pride?" Kevin asked in awe, brows furrowed in anger.

"People in the Old World did much worse for so much less. She will have ultimate power over those who manage to survive. We need to be sure before we choose a side."

"Choose a side? In a war? Crowley, I'm not ready for this kind of decision. I'm a kid. Who's side I'm on doesn't matter, does it? I'll die regardless."

"No, Kevin, you will not die. I won't let you. We need to figure out whose side we're on. It's not about humans versus angels anymore, so much as it is Lady Abaddon versus everyone who opposes her. Our morals don't matter now, boy, we need to decide depending on which side gives us a higher chance of surviving after everything blows over."

"Where does that leave the Winchesters? If they oppose her," Kevin murmured, worry evident in his voice.

"I know, Kevin... I know."

* * *

Dean gave a huff of satisfaction, after only a little over two hours of organizing, he had finished the records room. He could organize further quite easily, Dean observed, but that would have to be done another time.

He had made his decision, Cas was more important and he could get to Michael another way. Anything was better than hurting Cas, Dean told himself, slipping out of the records room, heading up the stairs towards Castiel's room.

* * *

"Hey, Castiel." Lucifer smiled, "Michael sent me to tell you that he changed his mind, that he wanted Dean to remain your servant."

Castiel sighed, not entirely happy, Dean had still wanted to abandon him. He was near the end of a game of chess, his eyes glued to the knight he stroked with his fingertip, Lucifer watched the boy in interest.

"Also, Michael wanted me to tell you you're allowed to leave your room whenever you please."

"What?" Castiel asked, speechless.

"I am given permission to let all staff in the mansion know about you. You can also go in the backyard as long as you aren't in the front yard, which faces the city."

"Really?" Castiel asked, smiling in excitement.

"Want me to tell your boyfriend or do you want to?" Lucifer asked jokingly.

"I'll tell him," Castiel pinched the chess piece between his fingers, picking it up and rolling it in his palm. "I want him to hear it from me."

"Okay, well, I'm going to go tell everyone about the angelic skeleton in the closet- so to speak. Tell Dean I said hi."

Castiel's eyes bore into the eyes of the equestrian chess piece before he set the piece forward on the board, beside the other black knight on his side. "Check."

* * *

Dean reached up his hand to knock on the door, but Castiel opened the door before he could.

"Oh, hey, Cas. We need to talk. I gotta tell you something."

Castiel nodded with uncertainty, "Alright, I have something to tell you too."

Dean wrenched his hands before reaching out and touching Castiel's cheek, fumbling over his words. "I was an idiot for even considering moving posts, I want to stay here with you- I don't care if we have to be a secret, I really like you, Cas."

"I'm glad you say that, Dean, because I've just been informed that I am no longer going to be a secret within the household. Which means we can start dating, if you want."

"Really?" Dean asked, slightly put off by the sudden change in events.

"Yes. My brother Lucifer is telling your family about me as we speak."

"Wow." Dean muttered, the wing on his back suddenly feeling like an anvil upon his shoulders. Could he trust Castiel with his secret? Surely, the boy would keep the secret if only because he didn't like Michael. However, wouldn't Dean's intentions then be apparent, from that point? And what would Castiel do if he knew the truth?

Dean shook his head in dismissal, he was being paranoid.

"Dean, would you want to?" Castiel's voice had taken on a tinge of vulnerability. "Date officially?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean smiled, trying to clear his head of the thoughts of Michael. "I'd love that."

Castiel smiled, "Well, great. If you can sneak me out tonight, there's a place I want you to see."

Dean's heart tore at the seams, watching Castiel's smile growing once he agreed. "Where did you wanna go?"

"There's this place on the coast, I went there with Balthazar as a child. It's beautiful. Quiet. We can be alone there." Castiel's smile was genuine as he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him close. "It's my secret place. I went there a few times when I snuck out. We can go tomorrow, if that's okay with you."

Dean's eyes strayed from Castiel's, toward the window and landing onto that of Arya. Tomorrow seemed like a promise. Dean had never really held well to promises. Even now, by involving himself with Castiel he was risking the promise to protect his family, but wasn't Castiel his family too?

"Sure, Cas," Dean murmured, laying his cheek against the boy's shoulder. "Tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been nominated for an Energize W.I.P. Award in the category of "Most promising Slash FanFiction" for Living in My Head.
> 
> The Voting will be from 02. June - 07. June 2015
> 
> So please tell your friends and vote for me! ^-^
> 
> Also, thank you guys so much for your continuous support. I couldn't do any of this without you.


	38. Bad Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Kevin & Crowley
> 
> "Where does that leave the Winchesters? If they oppose her," Kevin murmured, worry evident in his voice.
> 
> "I know, Kevin... I know."
> 
> -.-.-.-.-
> 
> Dean & Castiel
> 
> "There's a place I want you to see. We can be alone there. We can go tomorrow."
> 
> "Sure, Cas... tomorrow."

 

Bobby grunted, rolling his wheelchair through the saloon-style doors of the side entrance to the Roadhouse. Wheeling up to the side of the bar, he gave Ellen a look of quiet alarm. Yelling to Jo, the teen took her place at the bar as the older woman followed Bobby to the far corner of the bar.

Charlie watched the exchange with suspicious eyes, turning to Jeremiah, she mouthed  _read their lips._  He nodded, listening and watching with as casual a gaze he could.

"Took me a damn lifetime to get here, Ellen." Bobby scoffed, obviously agitated.

"The real question is why you're down here, Bobby." Ellen muttered, eyes glued to the man's face in search of a telling expression.

"It's Dean. I don't know if he can go through with it, El."

Jeremiah's eyebrows knitted in confusion, Charlie asking for an explanation but he gave her a quiet  _shh,_   _I need to hear this._

* * *

"So that's the story," Lucifer told the Winchesters, all at varying degrees of surprise.

"Well, looks like I found out what you were lying to me about all that time, Sam." Jess chastised, smiling briefly. "Being an awful liar sucks in that situation, huh?"

John went silent, his mind blank and caught speechless.

Mary reached forward and took Lucifer's hand, "So Dean is the boy's servant, now?"

"Yes," Lucifer answered, moving his hand from her grasp.

The woman seemed unoffended, "Does he treat my boy okay?"

"They're friends, Mom," Sam offered, "Dean is more of a companion to Cas than anything, like Samandriel for Adam is."

"Speaking of Adam," Lucifer asked, "You seen him and Rainbow anywhere?"

Sam chortled, "Rainbow, that's the best you could come up with?"

"On short notice?" Lucifer grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Yup." Lucifer checked his watch before proceeding back toward the meeting room. Surely, the meeting wouldn't take much longer.

"Now that you're done, Luci," Gabriel muttered, turning his attention to Jess and Mary. "Boss-man says he wants some food for the meeting, I hope you don't mind."

Mary shook her head, "We'll have it done in the next ten minutes if we start now. Would you like a refill of chocolate squares?"

"Thanks, Ms. Winchester, that'd be great."

"Huh, so Gabe has a sweet tooth, how childish." Sam grinned, Jess slapping his arm.

"Don't be disrespectful!"

"No, don't worry about it, Jessica. Gigantor there can call me what he wants, he's much bigger than me, after all."

Sam smiled, his head tilting back with amusement, "Never knew you angels had a sense of humor."

"Well, Gabe does, at least," Lucifer conceided, "We should go back. Castiel's room is top floor, the door with the Enochian "C" on it , looks vaguely like the number 13. Take good care of him, you all."

John watched the two angels leave, a chill rising up his spine, "Sam, Dean hasn't snuck out for days now. What's going on between him and the half-blood?"

Sam's blood ran cold, the threat evident in his father's voice, he was far from consolation, "Dean hasn't told me anything." Sam told the truth, Dean hadn't told him anything, not really, but he could  _see_ the difference. Dean cared for Castiel, a lot, more than anyone.

* * *

Dean stood there with Cas for what seemed like hours, but was merely minutes. Their embrace was tight and had no sign of seperating soon.

"Dean, I can't wait to show you the shore. You've never seen it, have you?"

"No one usually dares venture that far outside the inner city."

"As long as you leave from here, it's a ten minute walk."

Dean nodded, his thumbs absently circling the feathers on the bones of Castiel's wings. The smoothness of the feathers made his face skew in shame, still buried in the boy's neck. If only he could tell Castiel the truth. If only, he thought to himself.

* * *

"If you know, why aren't we going to help them?" Kevin asked pleadingly.

"It's none of our business, and we could get killed over it."

"But there is something about the Winchesters, surely you've seen it too. They could be the answer to the prayers of either side, or their  _worst nightmare_. They're a part of this."

"No bigger than you or I, Kev. Now,  _quiet_. It is no longer our concern."

"It  _is_ our concern, Crowley. Dean does not deserve this, neither does his family, it  _is_  our business!"

"It's not my  _problem,_ Kevin! My job is to protect your hide, not those humans'."

"I see," Kevin muttered, "Well, whatever side they're on, I'm joining them. Who cares if I'm on the winning side, if it's the wrong side? How could you live with yourself? All the humans could  _die, especially_ if all of the police are on the side of the angels. You know there will be very few angel families who would actually object to the war. Those who would immediately lose all their influence and power. It'll be a bloodbath, Crowley. I may die, but I would rather die than live knowing I had any part in that."

"You're a stupid boy."

"Sure, I may be, but at least I have a conscience." Kevin hissed, walking from the table into the kitchen, bumping into Lucifer and, in turn, Gabriel.

"Watch it, kid." Lucifer muttered, regaining his balance, "What's the hurry?"

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't think he can go through with it?"

"There's... complications..." Bobby ventured, his eyes searching hers for a hint of mercy. He found none.

"Damn those Winchesters and their fucking complications." Ellen cursed, shoulders tightening. "Are you telling me he and Michael are-"

"No! God, no, Ellen!"

"Then what is the problem?"

"He fell in love with the bird's little brother."

"Gabriel?" she asked in slight disgust.

"No, just... short version of this story: he's pulled a John Winchester and gotten in over his damn head."

"What does he plan to do? Just let the guy go?" she asked, impatient, her crossed arms tightening.

"No, of course not. It doesn't look like he's ready to poke head honcho with a blade either, though."

"So sick of this. I really need out of this business." Ellen muttered, glancing at the grandfather clock against the wall, chiming away. "Tell the kid either he kills Michael, or I give the job to someone else and he's S.O.L., okay?"

Bobby nodded, taking a deep breath before taking a swig of liquor from a leather flask. After taking another drink for good measure, he rolled his wheelchair out through the door, homebound.

Charlie's eyes bugged out as she was given the whispered play-by-play from Jeremiah. "Oh, boy. This is not a good sign."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> If you want something good to listen to while reading this fic that resembles a tracklist (like I do for my other story), look up Ambient Improvs (I-XX) by Ryan Lutton. They're fantastic. You can buy the album pay-what-you-want (even get it for free if you're penniless like me).


	39. Their Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Winchesters
> 
> "Sam, what's going on between Dean and the half-blood?"
> 
> "Dean hasn't told me anything."
> 
> Sam knew that, alone, was a dangerous concept.
> 
> -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
> 
> Kevin & Crowley
> 
> It'll be a bloodbath, I would rather die than live knowing I had any part in that."
> 
> "You're a stupid boy."
> 
> "Sure, I may be, but at least I have a conscience."
> 
> -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
> 
> Ellen & Bobby (ft. Charlie)
> 
> "What do you mean, you don't think he can go through with it?"
> 
> "There's... complications..."
> 
> "Tell the kid either he kills Michael, or I give the job to someone else and he's S.O.L., okay?"
> 
> Charlie's eyes bugged, "Oh, boy. This is not a good sign."

"Oh, god, Char. They wanna kill Michael." Jeremiah muttered, heart pounding.

"No, dude.  _Dean_ is gonna be the one to do it, though. Oh, boy, this is  _not good._ " Charlie exhaled shakily, scratching her arm in a nervous tick.

"What are we gonna do? We can't let him... you know... can we?"

Charlie scoffed, the word 'coward' itching to spill from her mouth, "We have two options, tell or don't tell. We need to pick the better choice."

"Better  _choice_!" Jeremiah hissed, "This is someone's  _life_ we're talking about!"

"I know how much you hate analogies, Jer, but think of it this way. You, me, and everyone in Arya is playing a game of cards. Everyone's life is their bet. We need to know whether to fold or not, to take the risk, but first we need to know what's in the other guy's hand."

"Charlie, even if we do tell, Michael will be mad that we waited so long to tell him." Jeremiah sputtered, terrified as he gripped fistfuls of hair.

"Jeremiah Theirn, you need to buck up and look me straight in the eye when I tell you this." Jeremiah's eyes rose to meet hers, face stern and her jaw set, "I know your brothers terrified you with what they did. Hell, I would be scared too, but you have to understand. It's not just about you, Bluebird. There are hundreds of lives on the line if the government were to collapse. We have to get intel and we need it fast. So our options are these: we ask Dean why or we turn him in without knowing the truth. If your mom had been around, what would she want you to do?"

Jeremiah's eyes sank and he laid his head in his arms on the table, muttering, "You already know the answer."

Charlie felt pity swirling around in her mind, mentioning his mom was a low blow, but it was the only way she could think of to convince him. Jo walked back over from the bar, patting Bobby Singer on the shoulder on his way out.

"I'm back, did ya miss me?" Jo asked to Charlie, but watching Jeremiah from the corner of her eye. "What's with him?"

"Think he's having withdrawl from being away from his lover too long, looks like we'll head out. Promise not to miss me too much, Gorgeous?"

Jo raised an eyebrow, a smirk turning up the edge of her mouth in challenge, "Well, I can try. Take care of him, Red."

Charlie stood, turning her head sideways to give the girl an innocent kiss on the cheek. "I prefer Charlie; but for you, call me anything you want."

Tapping Jeremiah on the head, Charlie managed to rouse him from his mood and walk out of the Roadhouse with him, every step falling heavier the closer they got to the manor. The feeling of fear was offsetting her usual easy-going demeanor and it set her on-edge. There was something going on, she could sense it.

* * *

"If you're itching to meet the half-blood, he's in his room." Lucifer told him with a sense of humor.

"What?"

"Oh," Gabriel muttered, "Guess you don't know. We all got a half brother- other than Balth, that is- his name's Castiel. He's Metatron's son."

"Half-brother," Crowley butted in, his curiosity outweighing his better judgement. "Then who's the mother?"

"Some girl," Gabriel spoke off-handedly. "An angel of an impure line, died from excessive usage of drugs. I think it's called Blood Sigil, was very popular at the time. Mostly gone now, though."

"I still don't believe that shit Metatron told us," Lucifer admitted. "You wanna know what I think? I think she got into it with a Hunter and got herself killed."

* * *

Sam watched his father with a sense of helplessness, at a loss for words to defend himself or his brother. The concept of being able to lie to his father without being caught was a foreign concept, usually Dean was much better at deflecting any intruding questions their father had, but Dean wasn't around, so Sam had to make do.

"They're together, I think. They're happy." Sam chided himself after the words left his mouth, they seemed too simple, too excluding, but his father's eyes faded and he shrugged with one shoulder.

"Seems as though everyone is contented leaving me out of the loop."

Mary frowned, rolling her eyes, "You're so melodramatic, John. It isn't really our business who he likes, anyhow. Be happy for him. Especially since this one lasted much longer than the others."

"Does he know?" John asked, suddenly turning his attention back to Sam.

"Doesn't seem like it, Dad. Cas seems trustworthy but I doubt Dean would risk being killed, even over him." Sam felt ashamed when the words left his lips, but they felt true. Dean wouldn't volunteer information like that so readily, not when he was hard-wired to survive. Dean's survival, and then Sam's survival, was Dean's top priority. However, Sam thought to himself, Dean wouldn't be able to hide such a large part of himself for long. Either he will tell Castiel, or slip up and reveal himself. He can't hide his angel side forever.


	40. The Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Gabriel, Lucifer, Kevin, and Crowley
> 
> "Oh. Guess you don't know. We all got a half brother, Castiel. He's Metatron's son."
> 
> "Who's the mother?"
> 
> "Some angel of an impure line, died from excessive usage of drugs."
> 
> "I still don't believe that. You wanna know what I think? I think she got into it with a Hunter and got herself killed."
> 
> Jeremiah and Charlie
> 
> "We have two options, tell or don't tell. We need to pick the better choice."
> 
> "This is someone's life we're talking about!"
> 
> "We have two options: we ask Dean why or we turn him in without knowing the truth?"
> 
> "You already know the answer."
> 
> John, Mary, and Sam
> 
> "They're together, I think. They're happy."
> 
> "Everyone is leaving me out of the loop."
> 
> "Be happy for him, this one has lasted much longer than the others."
> 
> "Does he know? About you know?"
> 
> "Don't worry, he doesn't."

Crowley felt a sense of alarm at the word Hunter. He never encountered one himself, but the idea that you could never know whether or not they were in your midst, terrified him. Not that he would be targeted, of course. He wasn't politically influential in any way, and he doubted that another angel would call a bounty on his head. Crowley was a respected, if not feared, member of angel society- especially for someone who wasn't an archangel.

"What do you mean by 'got herself killed'?" Kevin asked, looking up at Lucifer and Gabriel.

"Well, I'm not one to spread gossip," Gabriel grinned, bending down to whisper in Kevin's face, his breath reeking of chocolate. "But I heard that the angel got into a fling with a Hunter. It's all hearsay, of course, but some people say that she left Metatron's side to raise a child that hadn't been born yet."

Lucifer's expression turned to one of amusement, "You're spinning wives' tales again, brother, let's leave the boy to his post."

Kevin wanted to reach out to them and ask more, but it was none of his business. However, one question did linger.

"Sir Gabriel?" Kevin asked politely, "If I may ask, why was Castiel hidden away for so long."

Gabriel tried to hide the sudden twitch in his fingers and the shiver crawling up his spine, remembering the prophecy. "The boy has black wings."

To Kevin, the words meant nothing more than an extremely rare birth mutation, but to The Council, it meant one half of a fulfilled prophecy. Just the mention of the wings being common knowledge among the household, made the prophecy seem all the more possible and inevitable. A prophecy filled with war and bloodshed, costing the lives of many. The only half of the prophecy left to be realized is a boy with the wings of a dove.

With a courteous wave from Gabriel and Lucifer, and a duteous bow from Crowley and Kevin, it seemed as though the line in the sand had been drawn.

Everything from that point on would become a downward turmoil into the heart of the beast known as War.

* * *

Jeremiah and Charlie entered the mansion, the halls silent and foreboding.

"Definitely not right." Jeremiah mumbled under his breath, voicing Charlie's thoughts.

Their ascent up the stairs was greeted by the sight of Dean Winchester outside of Castiel's room, teeth gritted with a panicked look as he tugged on the roots of his hair.

"Dean," Charlie said softly, as if she was afraid of startling him. "Me and Jer would like to have a word with you... alone."

The random's throat seemed to close in his panic but he nodded, standing up and peeking his head inside the double doors, watching as Castiel stared out the opened window, lost in thought.

"Be back soon, Cas." Dean muttered, knowing the boy was too busy daydreaming to hear him.

Charlie and Jeremiah escorted Dean outside and into the backyard, out of sight and earshot from the council, so they could ask if it was really true.

Charlie spoke, Jeremiah watching silently with glassy eyes, "So, Dean. What's this I hear about you planning to assassinate the leader of Central Arya?"

* * *

John Winchester accepted the reassurance and wandered into the kitchen with Mary and Jess, hoping to aid in their cooking. Sam found himself drifting towards the dining hall, only catching the final part of a conversation behind the closed door.

"-the angel got into a fling with a Hunter. It's all hearsay, of course, but some people say that she left Metatron's side to raise a child that hadn't been born yet."

Sam recognized the voice as Gabriel's and found himself pressing his ear against the wall to hear without peaking through the swinging door.

"You're spinning wives' tales again, brother, let's leave the boy to his post." Lucifer, Sam's mind supplied.

Then, Sam heard Kevin ask the question he asked Castiel when he first began to serve him, why was he locked away. The same answer as that say, supplied once by Castiel and now by Gabriel, because he had black wings. He'd heard the whispers of the prophecy, both from eavesdropping on The Council every once in a while, and the occasional details he eventually pieced together from Castiel.

The prophecy stated that if an angel with black wings from a powerful, but impure, line were to be born, then the world as it was known to be would crumble and take form of a new order. However, this downfall would only take place in the presence of an angel with wings like a dove. Half of the prophecy was, indeed, realized. On the other hand, Sam noted, that other piece of the puzzle wasn't there. There was no one close enough to Castiel with the wings of a dove.

No one except Dean Winchester, with his wing of white raven's feathers.

Sam's heart caught in his chest, Dean.

Dean is the missing piece in a giant game of chess and if anyone found out about his wing, this could mean the end of hope for a different future. Sam's heart began to speed up, as if making up for lost time. Dean was in major trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating this "a day early" so I don't forget... don't expect this to be a regular thing.. 
> 
> I just happened to be awake at.. uh... 1:48 am... ew. 
> 
> Anyway, good night/morning and whatever. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. 
> 
> Please review.
> 
> With love,  
> deathbyinsomnia (aka Danny C)


	41. They Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Jeremiah, Charlie, and Dean
> 
> "Dean, me and Jer would like to have a word with you... alone."
> 
> "...So, I hear you're planning on killing Michael?"
> 
> ...
> 
> Sam
> 
> If an angel with black wings were to be born, then the world would crumble and take form of a new order.
> 
> Half of the prophecy was, indeed, realized- But there was no one close enough to Castiel with the wings of a dove.
> 
> No one except Dean Winchester, with his wing of white raven's feathers.

Dean's first thought was,  _what?,_ then was followed by flurries of  _how did they know? when did they find out?_  until he was called to attention by the redhead.

"Dean, focus, anyone in that head of yours?" Charlie sassed, fist pressed into her hip, she did not appreciate his zoning out.

"What do you mean? You think I'm gonna kill Michael?"

"Well, am I wrong?"

"First off, where did you hear something like that?"

"Down at the Roadhouse, a guy in a old baseball cap rolled in and told Ellen you were wimping out on killing Michael."

Dean felt defeated, he couldn't lie. Not when it would be useless, they'd obviously not just heard it from somewhere if they saw Bobby.

"So you gonna tell the truth now, Dean?" Charlie asked, arms crossing in front of her. "Since we know, we just want to know why, that's all."

"Then what? You won't run to Michael? Right." Dean huffed, working his jaw and glaring holes into the dying grass.

"Honestly? Depends on how you answer."

"What?"

"Tell us why you want to kill him, we all know he isn't exactly Mr. Popular around here."

"I'm doing it for my family."

"Explain." she settled her weight to one foot, demanding he go on.

"Michael can be replaced, in the grand scheme of things, and it's the job that could keep my family fed."

"That's all?" she asked, a twinge of something Dean couldn't place hiding in her voice.

"Yeah, that's all."

"You would kill Castiel's brother to get more food?"

"What are you implying?" Dean asked, venom in his tone. "Are you saying I am betraying Cas because I choose to?"

"That's not-"

"Well, good, because it's not! I love Cas but I have to, it's for my family and family is the most important to me!" Dean's eyes stung with unshed tears, Bobby's voice echoing in the back of his skull.  _Family doesn't end in blood, kid._ Yes, Dean knew he was betraying one family for another, but he needed to protect Sammy. Sammy was the most important.

"We won't tell Michael," Charlie promised, "but we need some kind of collateral so we won't know you'll leave this talk to end his life."

Dean, thinking of his younger brothers, sighed shakily, and unfurled his wing for the two to see. Charlie and Jeremiah gaped at it, a white wing, not even two of them. Suddenly, Charlie's memory returned to bedtime stories Lucifer told her of the prophecy that Metatron dreamed over and over for a year before Castiel was born. Dean was the missing piece.

* * *

 

However, as Crowley looked out the window and down at the three angel-kind, he'd realized it too. His feet sped him towards the Council room, his lungs betraying him. He hated Michael, that much was evident, but change meant a demotion and that was out of the question.

* * *

The council sat in silence, their eyes landing nowhere in particular as the sounds of the city below brushed lightly against their ears. Gabriel and Lucifer, eyes boring holes into the tables, Metatron and Michael with their eyes moving from one thing to the next, and Abaddon with her eyes staring sharply at the city. There was no knock, only the sound of Crowley bounding into the room.

* * *

 

"Dean, why do you only have one?"

The question was easy enough, but Dean found himself stumbling for an answer. A simple 'I just do' wouldn't suffice, but telling his life story wouldn't reveal much either. Finally, he found the best he could think of.

"I don't know, it's like any other mutation... just, more rare."

Jeremiah found it in himself to derive annoyance from the statement, "So you're the Chosen One in a damn prophecy from sheer luck? Figures."

Charlie slapped the boy on his arm, "Shut up, Jer. The grown-ups are talking."

Jeremiah's face turned red with anger and he huffed, plopping onto the ground, waiting for her to continue. He knew better than to push her too far. If he did, surely he'd pay for it.

"Dean, we won't tell. I swear. Just remember your half of the deal."

"Sounds like a threat. Tell him whatever you want. I'll kill him with, or without, your blessing. Have a nice day, you two." he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and his wings hiding once again. "Cas can't know. If you tell him, Michael won't be the only trophy I mount on the wall. Got it?"

"Sure." Charlie nodded unsurely, "Be careful."

Dean shrugged, making his way inside.  _Maybe now is the best time to sneak out to the shore_ , he thought,  _since I'm running out of time, I need to make the best of things._

* * *

Crowley tried gathering his breath, everyone watching with apprehension, assuming he'd finally gone off the deep end. The door, left ajar, was shouldered open by Mary and Jess as they laid out the plates on the table. Mary, glancing over at Crowley, frowned.

"Are you alright?" she asked, placing her palm on his forehead and her own. "You're a bit warm."

Crowley's memories of childhood reared their head and he smiled grimly, "Thank you, I'm fine."

She didn't seem convinced, but left anyway, leaving Crowley a mere minute-long window to tell Michael about Dean. His resolve weakened, not able to remember his prepared speech. Once the group had settled in, eyes turned to Crowley.

"Need something?"

His mind was made up, he was telling them... although,  _to the extent_  he would tell would be a different story.

"Metatron's prophecy-like dream is being realized." Crowley said diligently, eyes lingering on the door where Mary and Jess left.

"How, how is it even possible!?" Metatron yelled, eyes burning with fury.


	42. Castiel's Suspicion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Dean, Charlie, and Jeremiah
> 
> Dean sighed shakily, and unfurled his wing for the two to see.
> 
> Dean was the missing piece.
> 
> I'm running out of time, I need to make the best of things, Dean thought to himself.
> 
> ...
> 
> Crowley and The Council
> 
> "Metatron's prophecy is being realized."
> 
> "How, how is it even possible!?"

"How did you know about it?" Metatron asked.

Crowley's eyes seemed to lose their resolve but he cleared his throat, "There are whispers."

"Whispers?" He scoffed, "You interrupted this meeting for mere whispers?!"

Abaddon shushed him with the raise of her hand, "He may be onto something, dear. I have also heard some of these... whispers."

"And why didn't you  _tell me,"_ he spat venomously, her eyes flashing at him in anger. He slunk a little in his chair, "my darling wife."

Seeing Metatron recede, she regained her smile, "I slunk around the town for a while, before we 'officially' arrived here, and found out the little raven was hiding something."

"Hiding something? Like what, a third eye?" Gabriel mused, sarcasm dripping in his tone.

"No, he knew about Balthazar's whereabouts."

"So what? Balthazar did what he wanted to, he had nothing to hide, unlike little black wings in there," he pointed with his thumb toward the wall, indicating Castiel's room nearby.

" _Castiel_ ," she spat the name, " _knew_  Balthazar was thinking of clipping his wings."

Lucifer choked on the air he was breathing, causing himself to cough uncontrollably.

"He  _knew_?" Gabriel asked, shocked. "Why would he..?"

"Not tell you?" Abaddon asked, smirking, "Why should he?"

The air went silent as all those in the room were dumbfounded at what she was about to say.

"You're not even his brother."

"I am!" Gabriel yelled, lurching to his feet to grab at the woman he calls 'Mother'.

"Half-brother! He's bastard child, boy!" she yelled at him.

Angry, hateful tears welled in his eyes, "Screw you, screw all of this! I'm done!" He swiped his forearm across his face, wiping the tears away, cursing under his breath. "He's more family then you've ever been, you fucking harlot!"

"Don't you speak to Mother that way!" Michael yelled, furious.

Abaddon silenced Michael with a sharp glance, then returned her gaze to Gabriel. "Tell me now, my son, do you choose him or me?"

"Why is there a choice?" he asks, his eyes straying to Crowley, standing stock-still in the doorway.

"Because I want to know your answer," she said in mock innocence, leaning back into her chair.

Gabriel's stance weakened, his legs shaking slightly beneath him. He was fearful, he never liked not having control during a conflict. Abaddon always had control, had her aging fingers in every metaphorical pie in all of Arya.

Gabriel had made his decision the second he stood up to her, "I choose Cassie. He's a real brother to me. I don't know about Luc's opinion, but I chose Castiel a long time ago."

Crowley watched the room quiet. Despite the distance, Jess and Mary could be heard washing dishes from the kitchen. His feelings of disquiet only got stronger, his theory was right; there's war drums in the distance, and they're only getting closer.

* * *

 

Dean returned to Castiel's room, his heart sunken in his chest. He couldn't avoid the thought now that it's brought out, relatively, in the open. He wrapped his arm around Castiel's shoulder, the feeling causing him to reflexively tighten his grip. Castiel's eyes looked up to Dean's in silent question, but Dean gave him no reassurance.

"How about we go now, Cas? I wanna see the shore."

Castiel nodded, but he could sense something in the air gave made him a tad alarmed. Something seemed askew in Dean's behavior, and he had to find out why that is, even if that meant going to the shore earlier than initially planned.

Castiel laced his fingers through Dean's, leading him quietly through the house towards the back entrance of the house. The hill was steep, so they had to shuffle their way down the rocky side. They each almost lost their footing, but the other would recover them before they tripped.

The foggy mist had begun to settle on the water, hanging in mid-air. Thick and humid, the air was sticky and difficult to breathe in. The sight itself was beautiful, yet dreary. The water was a darkened blue, unable to see the bottom of the water ahead. Dean sat beside Castiel on a small, leveled platform built from stacked rocks.

Taking off his shoes and socks, Dean dipped the tip of his toes in the water. The water was numbingly cold and the air seemingly chilled along with it. It was there they sat in silence, neither could guess how long, just staring along the horizon.

The secret Dean held on his back felt like they were made of concrete, weighing him down more and more with every step he took. The feelings of regret were hurting him more than he could have ever possibly imagined. He did not expect to care for Castiel so much in such a short amount of time.

His mouth began to open, but the sound of Castiel whispering to himself shocked him to silence, eyes turning to see what Castiel was muttering to himself. It sounded like poetry, but the words were fading with the sound of the water washing quietly over the rocks.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you."

Dean's eyes flashed in fear, had he found him out? Dean panicked, he wanted to have a little more time to figure out what to say before this happened. He found himself at a loss for words.

"Dean, is something wrong?" his tone sounded mockingly coy.

"How did you find out?"

"Find out what, Dean?"

Immediately, he looked to Castiel, the younger angelkind having a knowing look in his eyes. He'd been caught in a lie, but Dean's heart felt as though it had paused in his chest. What he really wondered was  _what_  lie did Castiel know?


	43. Stop Lying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> -The Council-  
> "Tell me now, my son, do you choose him or me?"
> 
> "I choose Cas."  
> ...  
> -Dean and Castiel-  
> "How did you find out?"
> 
> "Find out what, Dean?"
> 
> What he really wondered was what lie did Castiel know?

Dean's head turned away from Castiel and back to the water, the sun lowering in the sky. He had to tread carefully. If he revealed the wrong secret, he could get into even more trouble.

"Dean," Castiel warned. "Tell me."

Which lie was safer, Dean had to ask himself, which lie was less likely to anger Castiel?

There was the worry of revealing the wrong thing and adding onto another thing Castiel wasn't supposed to know. If Castiel already knew about the wing and he told about Michael, he would be undone, but if he told Castiel about the wing and he knew about Michael, that was just as bad. He had to operate under the assumption that Castiel just knew  _something_  was wrong, but just didn't know what, so it came to the matter of choosing (for lack of a better word) the lesser evil.

Coming to the conclusion that his wing was the safer option, he allowed it to visibly unfurl from his back. Castiel froze, his eyes staring blankly at the white wing emerging from Dean's back. Castiel went rigid with shock.

"Dean... you're-" Castiel muttered, reaching out to touch it but he flinched back, his expression turning into one of rage. "Why did you hide this from me?"

"I'm a freak with one wing. I'd get killed if Michael knew."

"Don't you trust me?"

"It's not  _about_ trust, Cas. It's about self-preservation."

"Is this about... the hybrid killings? You didn't want to get killed over that?"

"Among other things."

"What things?"

"Quite frankly, Cas, I don't think it's any of your business."

"I thought we were in this  _together,_ what happened to that? You're acting weird, Dean."

"I've got a lot going on, Cas, and I'm panicking so can we just  _sit here_? I just want to hold you a while. Please, Cas." He didn't know about the plan with Michael, Dean told himself, feeling more conflicted than ever. He couldn't know, judging by the way he acted, his suspicion was right.

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean, stretching his wings out as far he could, in a protective gesture. "I'm here, Dean." As he saw Dean falling apart in front of him, eyes distant and body tremoring, he saw the Dean that had fallen apart just days before. "I'm here."

Dean's mind was filled with regret, he should've never taken the job to kill Michael, he should've never came back to work at the manor, and he should've never fallen in love with Castiel.

* * *

The council room's silence was ended with the sound of Gabriel rising from the table when he saw Charlie and Jeremiah standing in the doorway, he gave no one a second glance as he took Jeremiah's hand and walked towards the kitchen. Charlie watched the room in shock, at the uncomfortable looks Lucifer shot the ground, the anger that Michael and Abaddon told each other in silent glances, the simmering frustration of Metatron who looked petulant as he glared at where Gabriel had sat.

Crowley spoke up, his voice awkward and hoarse in the tenseness of the room, "I'll take the girl away, she doesn't need to hear these personal matters." He grabbed the girl tightly by her arm and lead her from the room, closing the door as he left. Charlie tried stopping, but Crowley continued to wrench her arm so she would walk forward. The walk ended at the top of the stairs to the main floor.

"You know about Winchester being a," his voice lowered, as if he were to speak in code, "broken dove, and you didn't bother to tell anyone?"

"You  _told them_?!" Charlie whispered loudly, pulling her arm from his grasp and using the other to punch him hard in the shoulder. "What were you thinking? Are you  _trying_  to start a war?"

"Better now than later," he reasoned.

"You selfish  _bastard_ ," she punctuated every word with a snarl, punching him directly in the jaw.

Hurriedly regaining his balance, he worked his jaw and touched it gingerly with his hand. He gave no defense, because she was right. He knew that, but looking out for himself was his philosophy. If not him, no one would, he assured himself as the redhead stormed off to the kitchen to join Jeremiah and Gabriel.

The two were in a heated discussion, bodies close and muttered whispers signalling fear and anxiousness. Charlie came up from behind and Jeremiah was next to Gabriel, the Winchesters apparently sent away for the moment. Gabriel turned on her with an excitement in his eyes that were tainted by fear, "What's this I hear about Castiel's lover being a mutt?"

Charlie felt the overwhelming need to strangle Jeremiah, but the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Gabriel was on their side.  _Dean's side._

This meant a lot more than she'd realized, she told herself, because now Dean has become the leader of a side.  _He_ is the one they will stand behind. This is no longer a matter of keeping secrets, but of keeping the bloodshed to a minimum in a political battle for the change of the future. The change in humanity's future.

Charlie found herself stuck, she was on the side that was most likely to lose.

* * *

Jess, Sam, John, and Mary all stood in the storage room beside the kitchen while Sam had his ear pressed against an air vent, each word clearly heard. His eyes turned into shock and tears sprang into his eyes as his hand clung to Jessica's.

"They know, mom. They know about Dean."

"That's impossible, Sam, don't be ridiculous." she'd said it with a light tone, but her eyes betrayed her, they showed how fearful she was. John grabbed for his wife's hand and held it, Jess feeling fear raising the hair on her neck.

"What's going to happen to Dean?" she asked, scared for the boy who had always been like an older brother to her.

"I don't know," Sam whispered, looking back at her. "I really don't know."

This words fell on deaf ears, the space gone silent with tense atmosphere rising through the uncertainty in the air. They were in deep trouble, now. It was only a matter of time until Checkmate.


	44. Michael's Obedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> Dean and Castiel
> 
> "Why did you hide this from me? Don't you trust me?"
> 
> "It's not about trust, Cas. It's about self-preservation."
> 
> ...
> 
> Charlie
> 
> Dean has become the leader of a side. This is no longer a matter of keeping secrets, but of keeping the bloodshed to a minimum. She was on the losing side.
> 
> ...
> 
> The Winchesters (sans Dean)
> 
> "They know, mom. They know about Dean."
> 
> "What's going to happen to Dean?" Jess asked.
> 
> "I don't know... I really don't know."

**The Council**

Soon after the outburst, once all that was left within the council room was Lucifer, Michael, and their parents, the entire room began to feel small. The tenseness in the air forced Michael to speak, as he was unable to stay quiet any longer.

"If what Crowley says is true, then what are we going to do with Dean Winchester?"

"Easy," Abaddon smiled, her smile too wide for her aging face. "Public execution, just like the other mutts who committed treason."

"Treason?" Lucifer hissed, "For what, being born?"

Metatron spoke up, his gaze steady and unwavering, "Exactly. We can't let anyone have the chance to overthrow our utopia."

"You're superstitious, father." Michael smiled, "We cannot be sure that such a prophecy will come true. We're basing all of this on the word of an officer."

"He's the highest in your command," Metatron pointed out.

"That may be true, he is a capable officer and guard," his voice took on a more stern tone, "however, he has a tendency of lying to dispose of others."

"He's a snake," Lucifer agreed.

"Regardless, we cannot afford to take the chance." Metatron afforded, eyes meeting those of his eldest son. "Michael, I trust you will take care of this."

Michael hung his head, shamed at the control being displayed against him, "Of course, Father."

Metatron and Abaddon rose from their chairs, Abaddon smiling wryly at her sons, "We'll be heading to our room, if you need us we will be there."

"Yes, Mother," Michael whispered, avoiding eye contact.

"You were always my favorite son," Abaddon cooed, moving to play with his hair, "So obedient. Even as a boy, you always did everything Mommy and Daddy told you to."

Lucifer's blood boiled beneath his skin. Yeah, Michael was obedient all right, Lucifer told himself. Even brainwashed Raphael to dote on Mother and Father's every wish. Poor Castiel had to face the brunt of it. Lucifer's memory of the night Michael beat Castiel came into his mind and it made him feel sick. Now Castiel is going to be tortured all over again, except now he has a weakness- Dean.

Lucifer's dark thoughts were halted only once Michael's hand had rooted to his shoulder. Michael making a point of looking worried about his younger brother. Lucifer's anger raged beneath the surface as he fought the urge to tear Michael's arm out of it's socket.

"Lucifer, you seem dazed. You've been staring at the ground for at least a full minute as if the ground personally offends you, do I need to get a different flooring?" Michael tried at dry, sarcastic humor, but it only sounded as though he was serious.

"Michael, you're making a mistake, but I hope that you already know that. You are not our father," his eyes rose to meet Michael's, "nor should you be. This is your empire, for Christ's sake, don't let him rule it for you!"

"You don't understand, what if the prophecy is right? The world will fall into chaos again. We cannot have a war like the Angel War, not without the death of all angels and humans to go with it." Michael warned, his voice wavering.

"You have two options. Start another war by killing Dean Winchester, who could probably get half of Arya to fight against you, or to let him live and see what happens."

"That's the problem, Lucifer! There is no sure way to make it out of this with minimal fatalities. I have to pick between two bad choices, and I choose that Dean Winchester is more of a threat alive than he is dead!"

* * *

**The Resistance**

Charlie sighed, holding her hand against her head as though it ached, "Where is his family? We need to let them know what is going on and organize, and as much as I hate to say it- we don't have much time."

Gabriel smiled, pointing his thumb behind him, "They're probably in the kitchen behind us, eavesdropping."

Charlie nodded, looking at Jeremiah and Gabriel, "You two, get organizing. We're at the point now where descretion is no longer an issue, but still avoid drawing too much attention, okay? Get as many assets as you can, black market is crucial to winning so get 'em on our side-"

"It's regulated by Michael himself," Gabriel interrupted, and Charlie groaned.

"Then you gotta be careful then, huh, Gabe?"

His face soured, Jeremiah's face still somber, "We'll go now. Tell the Winchesters, also go talk to that Kevin kid. He seemed to have a soft spot for them, he may be safer with them than Crowley."

Charlie nodded, "Good, now go."

Like soldiers, the boys' backs straightened and they walked shoulder to shoulder towards the stairs. Charlie steeled herself, finding the words she'd tell the Winchesters, when the door opened and Jess stood there with tears in her eyes. The girl looked smaller, more fragile with her eyes puffy from crying.

"I listened through the vent, is there really going to be a war?" Jess's voice was cracked, but the squeak did not alert the other family members to enter. "Is Dean gonna be okay?"

Charlie found herself saying the words without thought, "I don't know, we'll do the best we can, but really it's all up to him now."

"Dean's too young to die," she sniffled, "he's supposed to be there to watch me and Sam grow up, he can't die."

"He won't go down that easy, will he? He's a fighter, isn't he?"

Jess nodded, "Of course he is, he's a Winchester boy... and they're all stubborn asses."

Sam walked in with a frown, "Jess, you okay?" His eyes turned to Charlie and she straightened her shoulders, he was tall for his age, "I'm Sam, this is Jess."

"Charlie," she quipped in response, sensing the tensed figures of Mary and John hiding somewhere behind the door.

"Charlie, is my brother gonna make it?" Sam asked, looking at her with fear in his eyes.

"It's up to him now," Charlie muttered, her eyes tracing the feathers of Dean's wing behind her eyelids. "His job to fulfill the prophecy, so it's all up to him how it ends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> Sorry about the late update on this site, the only excuse is AGAIN the fact that I cannot update on mobile.   
> I'm a college student and my writing life revolves entirely around my smartphone that I always keep handy.  
> That being said, if you want regular updates, I highly suggest reading this story on Wattpad or FF.NET
> 
> With love,   
> ~deathbyinsomnia


	45. Roll Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> The Council
> 
> "You have two options. Start another war by killing Dean Winchester, or to let him live."
> 
> "That's the problem, I have to pick between two bad choices, and I choose that Dean Winchester is more of a threat alive than he is dead!"
> 
> ***
> 
> The Resistance
> 
> "Charlie, is my brother gonna make it?"
> 
> "It's up to him now, it's all up to him how it ends."

** The Tragic Lovers **

**... **

Dean, unaware that he had mere hours before the world he had known all his life would turn on it's head and change in some of the most profound ways that no one could ever have imagined. Dean, curled up against his lover as tears spilled down his cheeks.  _I'm scared, Cas,_ he wanted to say,  _I don't want to kill Michael. I've never killed anyone, Cas, I'm so scared._ However, all that left Dean's mouth was broken sobs. He wasn't ready, he would never be ready to do this. Not now, not ever, but it had to be done.

He wiped his eyes and untangled himself from Castiel, "I think this is the end of us, Cas. I can't do this anymore,"  _knowing what I have to do_.

"Dean, this isn't funny. Whatever you're playing at, I'm not amused, Dean."

"You shouldn't be," Dean's eyes grew distant and clouded as he focused on killing Michael, the best way to kill him without notice from guards posted around the manor. "because I'm not kidding, we're over. This is done between us."

Castiel's heart froze in his chest and tears burst from his eyes and flowed steadily down his cheeks, "Fine, Dean Winchester. I see that something has happened and I'm not important enough to know, that's fine. I was being too hopeful anyway, thinking I could love someone like  _you._ " the final word spat between gritted teeth.

Dean's eyes flashed in sadness for less than a second before he turned his back and ran towards the manor, away from the rocky shore. Castiel stared intensely at Dean's fleeting back until it stumbled out of view. He turned back to the water, his heart tearing to shreds inside his chest. Castiel had read of heartbreak and how it devoured you from the inside-out but he never experienced it first-hand. The feeling of sharp blades felt as though they dug into his skin, coating his body with scars, but he knew it was just a hallucination created by his overactive mind and emotions, but it didn't stop the heart-wrenching scream that tore from his throat, carrying on like an echoing bell over the water.

Dean did not hear the scream from his place by the manor, sitting beneath a tree as he considered the best course of action. His blood pumped as though it was rushing within his ear canals, begging to find escape that would never come- but that was just an imposition on Dean's part. He knew that if his blood could escape from him, it would. It was not a living thing that could be "trapped" and, in turn, was not actually in his ears but was an illusion created by his own inner turmoil.

* * *

**The Resistance**

**...**

Gabriel and Jeremiah made their way through the city, hand-in-hand despite the looks they were given.

"Is that boy human?" the townsfolk whispered, "and with an angel, no less. Poor boy, selling himself at such a young age."

Jeremiah cracked his knuckles from the pressure he exerted in self-restraint to scream at the people who knew nothing about them. Sure, they may be together (in a way) now, but they had done nothing beyond hold hands and no one was taken advantage of, so they had no room to speak ill of either of them. Leading the two of them into the Roadhouse, he sat authoritatively at the bar, surprising Jo behind the counter.

"Oh, it's you, I thought-"

"I know you're the place that assigns the Hunters," Jo's eyes opened in shock at Gabriel's words, then called her mother to her side whispering something akin to  _they know_ in her ear. "and we want to tell you that Dean is in deep water. It seems as though he plans to carry through his... assignment, but Michael plans to kill him before that happens."

Ellen seemed to realize the drastic outcome of such a thing before she was even told, "So you're asking for a round-up of allies, is that what you're saying? A flag to fly under, so to speak?"

Gabriel nodded, "Exactly, we want everyone you got on this, a revolution is coming."

* * *

**Charlie and the Winchesters (sans Dean)**

**...**

"Sam," Charlie told him, "we need all the support we can get in this campaign."

"Campaign? This isn't some political election like they had in the Old World, this is a hostile takeover!" Sam hissed, then taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"Anyhow, the only people in the manor other than us that may take our side is Kevin, Samandriel, and Adam."

"Crowley's kid, you've got to be joking." John rolled his eyes, his words dripping with distaste.

"He's just about our age," Jess pointed out, "how much good could he possibly do?"

"Any help is good towards the cause, Jess. If a war broke out, the fighting could last days, weeks, months, or even years. We need as many people as we can on our side in case we must plan for the long run and for the worst possible outcome. We need doctors, mothers, fighters, caretakers, alliances in the other sectors of Arya, every single connection we make until things start up could be the deciding factor between who lives and who dies, do you understand that?" Charlie's hands visibly shook as she gestured when she spoke. It was all becoming too much for her. She knew history and the plans they made in old wars and how they managed to win. Charlie hoped that information would help her know how to handle all this, to plan a resistance, or who knows how things could end up.

* * *

**Dean Winchester**

...

As he made his slow trek towards the mansion, he had to fight the urge to turn back with every step he took. The one he loved, he left behind, to provide for his family. In his mind, he insisted he made the best choice, but his heart told him there had to have been another way. With every step he drew closer to the House of Michael, where his fate would be waiting patiently for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---
> 
> A.N.
> 
> Did you miss Dean? I sure did.
> 
> As you can see, we're reaching the story's climax! Feel free to share theories in the comments. Since I keep all my chapters under lock and key, none of you truly know the outcome of this story, and that's the best part of it all.
> 
> I don't think the story will end the way you think it will, I can assure you.
> 
> Happy reading!!!
> 
> -deathbyinsomnia


	46. Standing Alone

The tears were dried on Dean's face in the wind, itching his cheeks. Wiping away them away, he couldn't bring himself to go to the manor yet. He couldn't keep a clear head after all that had just happened. Taking a shortcut to the road, he took the long walk to Bobby's to find the house empty.

Dust had feathered onto some of the furniture, rousing Dean's suspicion. Maybe he spent the night at the Roadhouse. Sure, it had been a long time since he'd stayed there, but he would probably return tomorrow. Especially if it was a night of drunkeness and possibly mistakes involving a particular Roadhouse owner.

Taking off his coat, his wing was clearly visible, making him feel a bit naked from the exposure. Dean took the short walk to the bedroom and climbed into the bed. He couldn't find the whimsy in him to count sheep, or sing about imaginary bottles of beer, so he just stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

Dean woke to the sound of a megaphone blaring echoes throughout central Arya and possibly the other districts. He hadn't heard the buzzing of a megaphone since Metatron was in charge, a faint memory in his mind. It must be important, Dean thought, getting out of bed and massaging his shoulders.

...

"To all of Arya!" Michael's voice bellowed, "I am asking you, the people, to find a Mister Dean Winchester and bring him to the stake to be burned for treason against the Aryan empire! Anyone who hides or aides him will die with him, get looking."

Michael repeated his speech once more before turning off his megaphone, eyes turning to Castiel and his sunken, red eyes that were dreary from crying. He touched Castiel's shoulder but the boy shied from the touch. Michael obeyed, returning to hear Metatron's speech.

"You need to captivate your audience, son. Being straightforward makes for a bad leader. They want to hear poetry when you're on the soapbox, not words of condemning."

"Regardless, it's a death sentence." Castiel whispered hatefully, glaring at his brother. "I've lost my brother, and now it's my love. How much more must I lose, Michael?"

Michael looked at the ground in shame, none of this was his intention. He didn't mean for this to happen, for Castiel to get hurt. However, Michael had to keep his priorities in order- the leaders came first, half-brothers an afterthought.

The heartlessness in the thought made him cringe, but he rose his eyes to that of Castiel's and smiled honestly. "It will all be over soon, little brother, then we can all be a family again."

"All I hear are empty promises, Michael. Whether or not you will excuse me, I am going to my room to mourn the inevitable deaths that will transpire here today. I hope you realize the gravity of what you are doing, Michael, before it is too late."

Michael felt his throat tighten as Castiel walked the trek towards the house, his brother had such little faith in this cause. Though it was best for them, the boy refused. Stupid, stupid boy, Micheal told himself as though the more he said it, the more what he was doing would find more stable ground and be an honest cause.

He repeated it a dozen times by the time he reached the manor. He was greeted by the extreme emptiness of the house upon entry, the Winchesters not reporting for the day and a few angelkind (unknown to Michael) joining them to plan a revolution. Vaguely, Michael could even hear the soft thumping of Castiel's bare feet pacing the floor above.

This emptiness was the first concrete thing to make his vendetta waver, but that is all it did- waver. It returned within an instant as Crowley entered the manor's foyer where Michael stood, his words as clear as ever.

"Dean Winchester's father is the human that killed Raphael. I heard it through my sources among the other angels. You may now put a bounty on him as well, if you wish, sir. I heard other things as well, sir, but that information may be better used at a different time." he smiled, then letting the smile fall away for fear of angering Michael.

Michael felt something akin to confliction rising in his chest, it's as though many of those he thought he could trust were nothing but wolves in sheep's clothing. He took a deep breath through his nose, then another, and another. He found his voice and dismissed Crowley from his sight. The angel slunk away as though he were a kicked dog, nursing its wounds, but it was only Crowley's pride that had been ruined. Crowley had chosen the side he believed would reward him for his loyalty, but it was then he realized he would get no warm welcome from either side.

Michael ascended the stairs and found his way to the room of Adam and his servant, Samandriel. He knocked quietly at the door, waited a moment, then knocked again before opening the door. The room seemed as though it had been ransacked. Taking a brief stroll around the room, he had come to realize they had fled. Fled because they were on the opposite side.

 _Sides,_ Michael wondered to himself, _How could we be on sides? The gray area which I have ruled under, my own learned morality and ethics taught to me by tutors and my father, has now become black and white to the people of Arya. They do not know how I am truly thinking, nor my reasons. What I am doing is right to maintain the order I have established thus far. This decision is for the best of Arya. If this boy had not come out of hiding, none of this would have happened. Nothing would have changed. The perfection would have stayed._

Of course, these thoughts were self-justification for this act of murder he planned on committing, but his feeling of moral correctness in his decision had become so far gone he couldn't have turned back. Even if he wanted to, he was beyond the point he could recant his decision. There were three sides: those who stood behind Dean Winchester and the fall of the Aryan Council, those who stood for the Aryan Council's rule, and those who hid or killed themselves for fear of involvement. It was at the point of no return.

"The clock is ticking down to the moment of reckoning. Dean Winchester, take up your arms and steel your heart, for the decision of the future lies in your hands." Michael muttered to no one in particular, slamming the door behind him as he bounded to the Council Room.


	47. House Divided

Michael had half-expected his brothers at the table, having missed the speech. He expected their forearms leaned against the glass window, foreheads pressed into their arms as they watched and listened to him yell at the common folks who stood stock-still in crowds. He imagined their brows creased with some form of confliction, lips pursed with anger.

Gabriel, Michael knew, was definitely going to be a driving force on the other side. He had to be. Gabriel was selfish sometimes, but he has always been ready to speak his mind on what he thought was unfair.

Even as a child, only he and Balthazar would defend Castiel. Lucifer sometimes misdirected Michael, telling him the little boy had hidden somewhere else than Michael thought or had gone in a different direction. Lucifer was strictly neutral, and he chose his battles wisely, but he silently rooted for those he believed were right in what they were doing. So, really, Lucifer wasn't going to fight on either side, but his loyalties lied with Gabriel now.

Once, at the dinner table, Gabriel told those who occupied the table- Lucifer, Michael, and himself, the parents usually absent save for social events- that he had learned about the angel war from the tutors that day.

* * *

Michael had laughed, "That subject took forever for me to finish, good luck, Gabe. You'll need it."

Lucifer, oddly quieted, resting his fork back on the table and turning to look at Gabriel with a strange expression, "Why bring it up?"

Michael felt the shift in Lucifer's mood and hair raised on his arms, Lucifer was still a child but something about the look in his eyes when he got like that scared his older brother.

Michael let slip a wobbly smile, "Well that's what we usually do, isn't it? Tell mother and father how our day went?"

"Yes," Lucifer muttered, lips barely moving. "But what I want to know is why that in particular, do you have something to say Gabriel?"

Gabriel nodded, "Yeah, I think the Angels of Old were wrong to do what they did. If the bible is true, like the tutors told us, and we love humans... why did we slaughter them?"

"Need I remind you, that they used bombs to try to kill the angels and turned their own land to unhabitable drylands riddled with radioactivity? The humans were torturing the earth in order to save themselves, don't you think that is selfish?" Lucifer replied, his back straight and his eyes boring into Gabriel's.

"Sure," Gabriel admitted, his young mind plagued with the strictly adult beliefs he was trying to fight for, in the only arena that would allow him, the dinner table. "But to err is human right? It's normal. We're just like humans, Luci, if I were to hold a knife to your throat you would defend yourself- maybe even kill me. You would forget for that moment that I am your brother, you would only see me as a threat. That's why I bleed for those humans, Luci, they didn't see their mistake until it was too late and that is the worst fate a person can have."

The room fell silent, everyone returning to their food. This occurance happened one time. No one ever spoke of it again, but they didn't have to. It was engrained into their minds, especially Michael's because those words came back to haunt him now.

* * *

Castiel had told him the same thing and that was frightening, two voices spoke in the same tongue and they reasoned that he may eventually regret his decision. However, his doubts fell silent to the point of void. He was the leader of Arya, despite anyone's disapproval, it was his decision. He pulled a chair from the table and put it before the window, watching the Aryan streets.

He no longer felt like a leader as he looked at those in the streets, the people walking around as though nothing had changed, he felt like a spectator watching something rot from the inside out. As a boy, he once left a fruit in his chambers on accident, coming to find it under his bed a few days later, where it had fallen from his shelf and rolled under the bed. It was withered away, rotted, molding, and reeking some unsettling smell.

He hoped Arya hadn't turned into something like that forgotten fruit- destroying itself from the inside without his notice- because of his own negligence.

* * *

Gabriel had gathered a small group of allies, composed almost entirely of Roadhouse regulars, the Winchesters, and the Winchesters' family friends. There were less than two dozen people in the room, but the shoulder-to-shoulder arrangement of them in the Roadhouse made it felt as though the bar area was overflowing with people. Gabriel was about to speak, to begin a plan of action, when Charlie touched his shoulder in a silent gesture to let her speak first. He allowed it.

"This may or not be disconcerting to some of you," her gaze lingered a moment too long on Gabriel, giving him the silent hint he needed for his suspicions to be confirmed. He hung his head as his face slipped into a dark expression. "But we cannot directly interfere with the Leader. That is the job of only one person, and it is his decision where that leads, but whatever happens, we need to be prepared to pick up whatever pieces we must to bring Arya into a new era. One without the death of those who are different."

Gabriel nodded, gently pushing her aside to begin what he really came to say, "Dean Winchester is a mixed-blood, a hybrid, a boy with one wing. You all know this, but do not talk about it. There are journals hidden within the manor that tell of the truth behind angels. All of us, angels and human alike, were indoctrinated to believe that angels were sent from heaven by a God, a Power beyond conception, but this was not the case."

As a child, Gabriel had read the books in secret but now he felt that the information needed to be shared, "In the manor, we have the journals of a scientist who has detailed accounts of his experimentation and eventual creation of the beings now known as 'Angels'. They were created in a lab, but were created in the image of that which was described in the bible and in art depictions, with a few adjustments due to the incapabilites to fly or cloak wings. Wing cloaking were eventually covered with clothes or using a recessive trait of cloaking thanks to the scientist's early experimentations with chamelion DNA to hide them. The angels were created to be used as a psychological weapon against enemy countries, as a Trojan horse of sorts. They would infiltrate the country, their appearance giving the people peace of mind, then to be ripped away in the final moments as they destroyed the enemy territories from the inside out."

People began to whisper as Gabriel took a moment to collect his thoughts and regain his breath, Jeremiah reaching for his hand as an anchor of comfort. Gabriel took it gratefully, his palms sweaty and shaking. He cleared his throat, quieting the whispers.

"However, as people found out about this scientist's 'angels' and stole his research, killing him, and 'mass-producing' them, but with so many, they rebelled against their creators and the Angel War began. That is why this is the only land on which we can live, the rest is dead and gone. Our own folly, both humans and angels, alike." Gabriel exhaled a long breath, it felt as though he'd held it in his entire life. "Things do not end with Michael, they must be nipped in the bud. As leader of this rebellion," he laughs, trying to regain his carefree attitude. It shows readily that he is trying too hard. "More or less, anyhow," he says, glancing at Charlie. Then, the facade of humor drops at a second's notice, returning to solemnity. "I am ordering the capture of the former leaders, Metatron and Abbadon."


	48. Grim Discovery

The room fell quiet. The sound of blood rushing within Gabriel's ears suddenly sounds as though it was the only sound in the room. He realized he dropped a major bombshell, but he couldn't lose his nerve now.

"This task is necessary and must be done immediately. Abaddon," it felt so foreign on his tongue, his mother's name. "She has eyes and ears all over the cities, maybe even some in this room. That being said, they need to be taken care of before word can travel. Are we clear?"

"Is there a reward?" A man asks, fingers twitching nervously in his pants pockets.

"She will find out who everyone is that has turned against her in a matter of hours, so your reward is your life. Meaning you will not be killed for insubordination against the Council, my seat and Lucifer's now being replaced by Abaddon and Metatron. Nothing can protect you from them unless they are dead and buried. Have I made myself clear?"

The man rubbed his fingertips idly against his scruffy jawline, "I ask because obtaining them seems to be a suicide mission. Wanna know if the rewards outweight possible consequences."

Gabriel moved from his spot, striding to the man directly and halting a foot in front of the man's face. His words were nothing more than a breathy whisper, "Death is not scary, not really."

His eyes cast down, "But I wanna know if the goodie basket is worth getting killed over."

"Mr. Winchester-"

"John."

"John," Gabriel corrected himself, "The longer we all wait to revolutionize, the more we are likely to be putting your son in danger. If he goes to kill Michael, and certain conditions are not in place, he will surely fail and be publicly executed. The symbol of our revolution will be replaced with a dead martyr. A dead martyr is of no use to a cause that needs that boy alive. Sure, we could all try to kill Michael but with the loss of the symbol for the reason we are fighting, we may not only lose support and morale but we will eventually lose the revolt. We will all die if we lose power and the Council wins. Do you see my point?"

"Yes," he exhaled, his hand moving to pinch his eyes between his fingers. "If my son doesn't kill the Leader, we all die- including him. However, if he kills him, what then? Has anyone considered what to do once all this is done? Oh, I don't know, like what will be the replacement of the government now?"

Silence fell over the room, yet again.

John Winchester sighed loudly, "Well, seeing as none of us 'humans' likely have the historical knowledge of other possible governments. When this is all over we need to join everyone together, angels and all, and figure this all out."

There was an assortment of agreements and nodding, Charlie's voice the only one above the crowd. "Well, let's find the King and Queen!"

The crowd cheered with her. And so it began. The downfall of Arya.

* * *

Metatron sat in the kitchen, a red apple perched between his fingers, turning it in inspection. He was practically carefree. He knew what was coming and he mildly feared his own death, but the fearless and insane part of him that wanted abolsute chaos to occur- another angelic war- wanted to know the feeling of a blade against his throat as a small trickle of blood would bead down his neck and into his collarbone in torture until his throat was eventually slit open. A death experienced only by those who had reached a pillar of infamy.

Infamy sounded like pleasant legacy after death, to die in the midst of chaos. He sighed in disappointment, he knew that it wasn't how it used to be in the Old World, and that a war would never occur per-se. War was not the fastest solution, and the ends in no way justified the means when good warriors were lost, especially when the death toll would mean most on the minority side he resided in.

Abaddon watched her husband's inner monologue with disgust, he was so dramatic. Theatrical, even. She exhaled sharply and smacked Metatron on the arm.

"Don't hurt yourself. I have some followers to meet and, as you say, 'conspire' with. Expect me back in a few hours, my rats have hopefully found something useful this time."

So Abaddon left the manor to meet in the darkest part of Arya with her small but capable alliance members.

* * *

Dean, with Bobby's house far behind him, made a trek through the woods in the direction of the Central-Aryan manor. He had never taken this direct route before, the obstables within the forest slowing him down- therefore making long trips impractical- but now he had no choice. If there was a traitor in the streets as he walked them, surely the odds would not be in his favor, his death would be the next morning's main attraction.

Therefore, the long route was the much better option. He was a lot less likely to be caught. As he stumbled along the path, vaulting over fallen trees and leaping over creeks beginning to form, he began to wonder how he would kill Michael.

He knew that the toll of killing another living thing had already left some scars in his mind, like the day in the bathroom when he had to be soothed by Castiel, but what the actual action would do terrified him. He wondered how much he would change. How would his feelings for Castiel change?

The thoughts were halted as he found the form of Balthazar lying in a small gush of water, face paling. Dean threw himself to his knees and dragged the former angel from the spot, setting him beneath a tree. He slapped Balthazar's face gently, trying in vain to rouse the man, the sight of Balthazar without his wings enough to tighten his throat in fear. Balthazar was becoming lifeless, his breath shallow and forced.

"Balthazar! Balth! B! Wake up!"


	49. The Horsemen

Abaddon stood among her group and scowled. The lot had gotten slim over the years, but her pickings now were downright pathetic. She had 4 left, men she'd referred to as 'The Horsemen'. They were the best of her secret police force, and they bowed to her will endlessly. They would put a dagger through anyone's skull if she asked them to.

Michael, her son, forbade the use of secret police once he and his brothers came into power. Michael believed that the concept of such a force was one that was better spent on something more public. His belief was that fear and submission derived better from a more visible force than one that was merely a rumor that was whispered inside people's homes.

Abaddon thought otherwise, she firmly stood behind the idea that if you don't know who to trust, out of fear the people may isolate themselves and let there be no room for uprising. Deep down, she thought that Michael's lightening of hand in terms of harshness and newfound leaning towards foolish decorum was disgraceful against the previous rule led by her and her husband.

In Abaddon's mind, she had not arrived a moment too soon. In her mind, she arrived at the precise moment her son needed to be saved from his own distress. The Horsemen stood before her and her mind had officially been made up.

"I want Dean Winchester captured and whatever uprising, no doubt occurring at this moment, ceased. Break the Winchester's bones or cut off an appendage if you have to, but bring him back alive. Have I made myself clear?"

There was an assortment of "yes, ma'am"s from the four men. As they left, Abaddon reached out her hand and put it on the shoulder of the tallest, thinnest man who was the oldest of the group. He stopped, his stance becoming even more rigid.

"My little harbinger, I'm sending you after the boy. Pass on the message. I know you'll do right by me." She smiled, making the man uncomfortable.

He nodded, moving from her hand to tell the others. He was afraid this would happen. He was the most loyal of the group, he had no problem killing anyone she asked- earning him the nickname Lord of Death. However, this time, he didn't like being left with all the work. He caught the others up to speed and left them behind, making his way through the center of town.

His face, skin stretched taunt across his skull made his black eyes seem to gouge from his eye sockets, lips thin and dry. The man was only 40 but looked many years older, the bones in his hands pressing against the skin as though they wished to break free of its confines. His skin pale, the blue and purple veins beneath his skin bulging to the surface, clearly visible even at a distance. His hair which hung limply at the end of his earlobes, stuck out in places, adding to the wild look that he already achieved. The perfect embodiment of death.

He pulled a serrated knife from his pocket, the bone handle's weight feeling something beyond familiar in his hand. His voice escaped from his lips like the quiet howl of the wind through the trees on either side of him. A sound akin to dried leaves crunched underfoot, something only half-there.

"Dean Winchester, I hope you're a fast runner."

...

Dean watched Balthazar in horror, fumbling with his hands and mind to figure out a way to help his former(?) love's brother. Patting around the man's body, he found the source of his suffering. The stitches where his wings had been removed had somehow reopened. Taking a closer look, Dean could have swore it looked as though the stitches had been purposely sliced open. Then again, Dean reasoned, he was far from a medical professional. Dean Winchester was at a loss of how to save him, so he did the only thing that made sense. He supported Balthazar and started hobbling with him towards the manor.

...

And so, everyone within the Roadhouse grouped into duos, promising meeting places among each group. This way, if they were to see Abaddon, they could spread the news to the closest group or even get backup if they wanted to dare confront her directly.

John Winchester, on the other hand, wanted to meet her directly. His only choice was to pair with his son, Sam. Despite Sam's fear of his dad's rashness, he wondered if his dad would actually do it- kill Abaddon. Part of Sam wanted to believe his father could never hurt anyone, but he knew better.

Sam was not blind to his father's past as a hunter, he chose to pointedly ignore it, and therefore feared for his father's safety as well as his own. Sam did not want to be caught in the middle of his father's plans, but based on the rules that had been established among the rebellion he had no choice but to be dragged into the mix.

...

Dean took a break, setting Balthazar down gently against a tree. A pained grunt from Balthazar signalled he was still alive. _Good_ , Dean thought _, maybe if I can make it there undetected and get him inside I can find a place to lay him down before heading Michael's way._

 _Michael_ , Dean's stomach twisted at the name, he was to die at Dean's hand. He pulled his blade from his pocket and looked it over as his stomach churned. It was not small. The blade was something Dean snagged from Bobby's cabin that had been remnant of Bobby's hunting days, now left as a paperweight to gather dust, to remind Bobby of his years killing angels. Dean knew it wasn't going to be easy, Bobby had even told him so once.

_"Killin' people ain't easy, Dean. You would think after a while it gets easier, it doesn't. Blood gets on ya, kid, and no matter how hard you try to scrub that blood away..." Bobby's breath hitched and caught in his throat, "It never goes away, son."_


	50. The Battle

"The blood never goes away," Dean muttered to himself spitefully and self-mocking, putting the knife back in its sheath within his pocket. Bobby's words had rang true and came back to bite with a vengeance.

All of this was beginning to make Dean furious. He felt as though he no longer had no choice in what was to happen next, yet every future of every individual in Arya was directly influenced by what his course of action would be in the last fateful hours. Dean didn't dare to step down, having come so far.

"I'm going to be killed anyway, might as well try to sever the head from the snake."

Dean looked to Balthazar and picked him back up again, hefting him to the manor against his better judgement. Putting Balthazar in Castiel's care, despite their new-found conflict, was the morally-correct thing to do in Dean's mind. Although Dean knew that Castiel would be willing to accept Dean's help, if only for the sake of his elder brother, they would be far from making amends.

Dean knocked on the back door ever so softly, and not a minute later Castiel was at the door.

"What happened?!" Castiel shouted, hurrying to come to their aid. "Did you-!"

"No." Dean's tone was sharp, "I didn't. We can talk about this later when Balth isn't slowly bleeding to death."

Castiel's mouth snapped shut, leading them into a bathroom. "How injured is he?" He asked, wetting a cloth to cool Balthazar's rising fever.

''All I saw was that the wounds in his back have reopened. Looks like the stitches may have been cut."

"Cut? By who?"

"I was hoping you would tell me." Dean admitted.

"How would I know!?" Castiel yelled defensively, "He was allowed to leave, not me. I have no idea who he knew outside these walls."

"Well, he didn't do it to himself," Dean said matter-of-factly, his eyes constantly darting to the door with paranoid glances.

"Clearly," Castiel muttered, his eyes falling on Dean shaking with a mix of adrenaline and fear and felt a pang of sympathy before returning his eyes to Balthazar, moving to remove his brother's blood-soaked shirt. "Why did you bring him here?"

"He's your brother," Dean whispered, eyes glued to the door.

The rest of what Dean had to say did not need to be said. Balthazar was Castiel's brother and despite what distance was between them, Dean still felt the need to save someone who did nothing wrong. Deep down, Dean knew it was a feeble attempt to balance the scales in relation to what he was about to do. Try to save one life while plotting to kill another. Had it been anyone else, Dean would have found grim humor in the irony, but as Dean looked back at Balthazar he knew that he didn't have much time left.

Dean stood, almost uttering words of farewell, but bit them down and left without another word. Dean left Castiel to care for his only brother, said brother's blood seeping through the rag Castiel pressed to his back. Castiel left Balthazar for a few moments to retrieve a mending kit from a cupboard, watching as Dean Winchester was unknowingly walking directly into the path of the one called Death.

...

The man called Death was waiting for Dean Winchester once he had reached the heart of the woods. He sat on a stump, waiting as if he had all of the time in the world to sit and do nothing but breathe. Coming upon the man just sitting there was enough to scare Dean into pulling the knife from his pocket. Death laughed, a sound that more closely resembled a wheeze than a chuckle.

"Here I was, hoping there would be a challenge, maybe a running start for you." Death remarked, watching Dean's wing with fascination. "There is the legendary wing, hm? I expected something more ornate, but what can you do? Prophecy isn't picky about theatrics, so much as just generalization. So, let's cut to the chase shall we? I'm being sent to kill you. Shall we begin?"

"You're talking an awful lot for an assassin, that's what you are, right?" Dean asked, his knife extended straight out towards the man.

"Simply put, yes. A bit like you Hunters, except we work on the opposite side. In fact, most of us do it for the ration tickets- we don't really care who the target is, just whoever pays the most."

"That sounds disloyal."

"Smart, more like it," Death walked closer, his knife at an odd angle as it was being held in his hand. "I, however, don't care for the extra rations. I don't use them."

"Then you like killing then?" Dean asked, walking backward. He hoped that if he kept the guy talking, he could trip him into stepping into an old fox hole.

"I like the ability to end lives that have a countdown until they are goners, that way, my merciless and impartial killings of these people will be quick and relatively painless."

"Relatively painless?" Dean joked, his stomach churning.

"The other Horsemen, well, let's just say they have their own, slower way of doing things. Like starving victims to death, killing them with poison, or bashing their skulls in with the hilt of a knife no matter how long it takes. They are cruel."

Death walked forward, stopping before the hole in the ground and smiled, "If you wish to kill me Dean, you will have to do better than that. I won't let you kill me easily."

Dean lunged forward, knife in hand as he cut a sliver from the man's arm. "Either you're slow, or you want me to win."

"I'm impartial," he answered, punching Dean in the stomach.

"Really now?" Dean smiled wickedly, shoving his knife into the man's knee as he hunched over in pain. "Because I think I've just won."

"Maybe the battle, but not the war." Death muttered through clenched teeth.

Dean pulled the knife from the man's leg and plunged it into Death's chest.

Death breathed the last of his life with these words on his lips, "The war comes after Michael's death."


	51. The Reprieve

Sam Winchester and his father had little luck in locating Abaddon, but they did stumble upon a man standing alone. The man stood with his shoulders hunched forward, curling away from the tree he was leaning against. He was watching a knife in his hand with interested eyes, unaware that the two Winchesters had come from behind, a makeshift weapon against his throat from John's hunting days. The man let out a small chortle, the knife nicked the surface of the man's skin, to which he let on no sign of pain or dismay.

The man seemed painfully ordinary with his peppered hair and perturbed expression and it made Sam's skin crawl. He moved in front of the man, making brief eye contact with his father in silent permission before opening his mouth.

"Where is she?"

"You have to be more specific, son. No one could find anyone with those kinds of parameters." he said matter-of-factly, leaning his head back on the tree, the knife cutting a thin line in his skin from the movement. No blood, not yet.

"I will gladly let him force it out of you," Sam lied, his tone betraying him.

"I don't think you have the guts, not even to give the orders. It's a tad pathetic, really-"

John shifted the blade to directly on a particularly visible vein in his neck, "He doesn't have to, I'll gladly do it without being told."

"How boring," the man scoffed, "Can we wrap this up?"

"You're with her, aren't you?" Sam asked, taking a deep breath through his nose to keep his wits about him.

"Well, if you haven't figured that out by now, let's cut to the introduction so we can get that out of the way," he took on an air of confidence, "I'm one of the Queen's Horsemen, they call me War."

"Another question then," Sam said aloud, eyes glancing to the blood-caked knife in War's hand. "Whose blood is that?"

"More than one person's, clearly, but the most recent has to have been my favorite so far. That traitor Balthazar needed to learn that forsaking ones own kind does not go unpunished."

"You are so full of yourself, you angel prick. Maybe I should slit your throat right here. Forget the broad and just kill you for sport." John Winchester muttered darkly, whispering in the man's ear.

For a fraction of a second, War's expression showed fear.

"You wanna find her? You'll find her if you follow the dead she is planning to leave in her wake."

...

Dean Winchester watched the man called Death as his corpse lay askew on the ground. Everything Dean was doing now, it seemed all too easy to _kill_ \- to be something monstrous- and more so, it felt like second-nature. The tasks themselves seemed overwhelmingly easy, behind all the legwork he was just following bread crumbs until he reached the end of it all. He wished the thought made him sick, but he felt absolutely nothing anymore.

He hoped that someone else wouldn't find him before he got to Michael, because he didn't want any more collateral damage by his hand. The sound of leaves whispered beneath Dean's shoes as he skirted his way along the treeline. Surely, it would be obvious where Michael was. At least, Dean hoped so.

...

Castiel found himself at a loss of what to do with Balthazar, who was now stitched, bandaged, and put in bed. Someone had obviously attacked him, and harboring his brother would be a serious danger to the both of them, but Castiel preferred to put his own life in danger than to leave his brother's side. He pulled a chair to Balthazar's bedside and waited. Castiel waited, hand grasping Balthazar's as he slept.

...

Michael wandered the now-empty black market, his eyes skirting over the empty hall. He hadn't expected everyone to have packed up so quickly, but it didn't matter much to him now. All he wanted was a place to think. Away from Metatron, away from Abaddon, away from his brothers, he wished to be truly alone for the first time in his life.

Eyes skirting across the walls of the hall, he noticed something that caught his eye. Drawing himself closer he'd seen a stuffed ragdoll made from fabric scraps. Something in its eyes reminded him of his young pupil, Adam. Michael, after turning it over in his hands for a few seconds in tense observation, eventually came to the conclusion that it was the smile sewn into its face. Done crookedly, the smile had a cocky and boyish look about it. He slid the doll into his pocket and moved to the center of the room and sat down facing the entrance.

"No more running," Michael whispered, "Come on, Dean Winchester. Kill me if you think it'll help."

The walls did not echo, leaving his words to fall flat among the emptiness of the hall.

...

"Sam?" John Winchester asked his son, heading towards the town square in hopes of finding an answer to the hint War had left them.

"Yeah?"

"Dean and that boy- are they?"

"I doubt they are. Not anymore." Sam answered sadly, the image of Dean's smile fading slowly from his memory. He sensed Dean wouldn't smile much more after this day.

"That's good." John whispered, "It's good. He won't get hurt."

"Dean is already hurt-"

"Not Dean, that Castiel boy."

"What?"

"I don't know how Castiel would feel with his lover's father being the murderer of his brother."

"You mean-?" Sam asked, placing a hand on John's chest to stop him from walking. "You killed Raphael?"

"Well, that is the only dead one, isn't it?" John answered dryly. "Regardless, even if Raphael had been adopted, he must have been beloved by Castiel too. I don't know how either of them would take it."

"Not good," Sam supplied, "I could tell you that much."

"Don't tell Dean, okay?" John asked.

Sam nodded limply, he planned on telling Dean with or without his father's consent- Castiel deserved to know and it would be better received from Dean than himself. Wherever Dean was, Sam knew that his brother's resolve had definitely solidified by now and that they should get moving.

"Dad, we should hurry. No more chatting."

"Right," John responded, falling back into silence as they searched the streets of Arya for Abaddon- the, soon to be dead, queen.


	52. Into Place

Dean stopped, spotting someone going into the marketplace from his place in the woods. He doubted anyone would be there, considering the circumstances, but he had no idea what the rebellion might be doing. Against his better judgement, he decided to take the back entrance to the building, making his way through the maze of empty shelving until he reached the door leading to the main room.

He took a deep breath and eased the door open, there he found Michael sitting cross-legged by the front entrance. He was waiting for someone. When Dean opened the door fully, the door squeaked, Michael's attention snapping around to him.

"Dean Winchester, you're here. You didn't make me wait very long, I can appreciate that."

Something in the way Michael spoke seemed very different to Dean, although he couldn't exactly put his finger on it. Dean was unaware that this tone was one he'd never heard before; a tone that welcomed the inevitable.

"How about you slit my throat and end this quickly? I'm only the spokesperson at this point." Michael shrugged, unmoving.

Dean stepped closer, his left hand trembling, while his other hand held the knife completely steady. "Why the sudden change of heart?" Dean asked, stepping closer and closer.

"Maybe I'm tired of ruling; maybe I'm tired of the former court whispering orders in my ear; maybe I'm tired of this government, but- Those are all lies," he admitted, "The truth is, Dean, I know that to end the way things are- my death is on the top of that to-do list, even though I wish it were otherwise. My brothers fight against me, and I exiled my only half-brothers- one of which by association, the other literally... You need my head on a pike in order for the citizens to accept new leadership, even with my parents killed."

Michael's acceptance of the true evil that his parent wrought was easier than he imagined it would be. His parents no longer felt like kin to him ever since he and his brothers took seats at the council, from that point on his mother and father became strangers. He became a chess piece in his mother's game while his father became a twisted yes-man.

"So you just accept this?" Dean asked, the light reflecting off of the flat of his blade. "Me killing you?"

"Do I have a choice in the matter?" Michael asked, eyes following Dean as the teen stood in front of him. "My death is a given."

"I can't believe you chose this moment to have a conscience." Dean shook his head, lowering his blade to his side. "It seems like a poorly-planned trap to me."

"Other than this rebellion, I would have no reason to have ill intentions towards you. Now, your father is a different story-"

Dean interrupted Michael with an angry shout, "Cut the shit, what does my dad have to do with _any_ of this?"

"Simple," Michael answered, leaning his back on the dirty floor, the thin, white shirt he wore doing nothing to warm him. "He killed my brother Raphael, among other affluential angels in Central Arya over a decade-long hunting spree. His hands are dirtied by the blood of angels."

"You angel bastards probably deserved every death." Dean spat out to readily defend his father.

"How wrong of you Dean, despite what our great caste system may be, angels are human too. However, it's weird you say that, since you're an angel too. Half, albeit, but more than none. You can't just disregard half of who you are for what you think is the better half. When you lead Central Arya, or all of Arya, you better embrace both halves if you want equality and fairness."

"You're one to talk." Dean laughed sardonically.

"I am, aren't I?" Michael asked amusedly, "I, who tortured my half brothers because their mother was not my own. I suppose you can say I've seen the error of my ways through you. You have a half-brother and you treat him no less like a brother than Sam."

"I helped raise Sam and Adam and kept them as safe as I could. My dad did cheat on my mom to have him, sure, but that was not Adam's fault. He has never said any hateful things to me beyond that of a normal teenager, and he apologized for those things every time. Cas- Castiel is a good person, so is Balthazar, what made you hate them so goddamn much?"

Michael's smile became one of knowing, "I found out as a child, overhearing a conversation between my parents, that my half-brothers were borne of the woman who's lover killed my brother Raphael- your father."

"You're saying Adam, Cas, and Balthazar are half-brothers?" Dean asked, his blood feeling as though it froze solid.

"To sum it up, yes."

"Is that why you took him into your home? Because you knew who he was?" Dean's hand involuntarily gripped the knife tighter in his fist.

"More or less, in addition to the fact that he was a perfect candidate for the job I was training him for."

"What were you training him for?"

"To take my seat at council."

The realization hit Dean slowly and in waves.

Eventually, he muttered out more to himself than to Michael, "You knew this was going to happen."

"As much as I love talking to you, Dean," Michael drawled, sitting up. "Kill me and get all of this over with. You still have to find Metatron and Abaddon."

"I already have blood on my hands, I am not excited about adding another layer of death to my life's guilt. Especially knowing that killing you will ruin anything I had with Castiel."

"He may not forgive you Dean, but he understands. Once you tell him all I have told you, you two may begin the slow process of healing your physical wounds and mental traumas. So, Dean," Michael touched Dean's hand and pulled the knife flush with his throat. "Cut here- deep and fast- I will bleed to death before any of Abaddon's lackeys find me. Get it over with. Go."

Dean closed his eyes, warm blood splattering on his face as he drug the knife quickly across Michael's throat. When he heard the gurgle of blood and the resounding thud of Michael's body hitting the ground, he managed to run clear through the building before vomiting in the street. His empty palm flat against the brick, he held himself up as he wretched until all that passed his lips were lines of spit. Dean had only caught a glimpse of Michael's corpse, but the resurfaced memory of the pained expression on the body's face, neck spluttering forth blood sent him into another wave of gagging.

...

Dean did not see the woman hiding in the shadow, the allegiance tattoo on the base of her skull barely peeking through her black hair. After watching for a few more minutes, she returned to her post to report the news to Abaddon.

"Your Grace, it seems that Dean Winchester has killed Michael. He was coated with blood and last I saw, he was headed back in the direction of the rebellion group's last known whereabouts."

"Understood," Abaddon nodded curtly, "you know what to do."


	53. What Remains

Sam caught sight of Dean first, rushing forward to check for any injuries. Dean's clothes were caked with dirt and various degrees of drying blood. Dean's hands had swiped across his face, smearing the blood across his face which was already affected by the sweat dripping down his face.

"Dean, what happened? Are you hurt-"

"He's dead, Sam. Story time later, we have bigger fish to fry." Dean muttered, handing his father his blade as he wiped his hands along his pants, splaying long handprints of blood down the legs of his pants. "Metatron and Abaddon are our most important tasks right now. Chances are that if we find her, he'll be slinking somewhere nearby. He's useless alone."

"Dean," Sam said aloud, voice weak. "What happened to you?"

Dean felt a tightness in his chest as he lied through his teeth, "Nothin', Sammy, nothin' at all."

...

Castiel left Balthazar to sleep as he made his way to the main floor. His hand pressed flat against the metal door, his breath hitching as his other hand pulled the door open to the stone staircase. The darkness of the stairway below sent a shiver down his spine.

Fetching a candle and match from a nearby bureau, he lit the candle before setting the used, smoking match in an ashtray atop the bureau. Shielding the flame with one hand, he made his way slowly down the stairs towards a place he hadn't been for many years, the family tombs.

...

Eventually, all members of the rebellion of the angels (sans John, Sam, and Dean Winchester) met within The Roadhouse, all without any substantial luck- that is, except for Lucifer. Lucifer clapped his hands, the sound stunning and as loud as thunder.

"Now is the time for all of us to retire to our homes. We are no longer needed."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked gruffly, Jo standing at her side.

"If my suspicion is correct, Michael is already dead. All that is left is Metatron and Abaddon."

"Suspicion?! So you don't even know for sure?!" Jo yelled, shocked.

"Believe me when I say, if he were still alive and under Abaddon's control, we would all be dead by now." Lucifer assures, a twinge in his chest at the thought of his brother lying dead somewhere.

"Besides," Lucifer begins again, his voice shaking slightly, "this is no longer our fight. It is The Martyr's fight now. It is up to Dean Winchester now. Go home. All will be settled by sunrise."

There were mutters of disapproval, but eventually Gabriel, Jeremiah, Charlie, Jo, and Lucifer were left alone in The Roadhouse, Jo's mother even home, soundly napping in her bed. Jo was the first to feel her chest swell, and tears fell freely from her eyes.

"Oh, Dean... Why did he have to be the one to deal with all of this? It's too much for any one person to handle..." she sniffed, wiping her face. Charlie embraced her as she cried, Jo clinging to her shirt.

"Prophecy said it would be him," Jeremiah whispered, voice hoarse. "It was his destiny. He has to be able to withstand it himself."

"He has family," Gabriel added, "That means he is never truly alone in this. I just hope Feathers will someday find a way to forgive Dean for everything that happens on this day."

"He will," Lucifer muttered, "I think it's Dean who needs to forgive himself after all of this."

"In that book of quotations you gave me as a child, Gabriel," Jeremiah uttered, his voice breathy and his eyes distant. "Had a quote by a man named Baldwin which said 'The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose.' I believe this is why Castiel will move past this, because he sees that this was what Michael had become. A man with nothing to lose, a life spent destroying others, and a destiny that had one outcome- his death for the greater good."

Jo exhaled deeply, her eyes closing tightly to push back tears, "You're right. We should all go home. This is Dean's business now. All of you can stay here at the Roadhouse if you'd like until things settle down. Personally, I need a stiff drink to keep me from crying.

Charlie smiled, joining her at the booth in the far corner, each taking a sip from a dusty bottle of strong liquor. Gabriel and Jeremiah, hand-in-hand, left the Roadhouse to return to the manor. Lucifer went in a separate direction, aiming to find what was left of the Winchester search party to send them home. Little did he know that all Winchesters (sans John, Dean, and Sam), as well as Samandriel by Adam's side, were in the Winchester house, waiting for news.

Lucifer would find them much later, after he had already found Sam, Dean, and John Winchester standing among the dead corpses of Abaddon- The Whore of Babalon, Metatron- The Former King, and all of Abaddon's followers- angel and human alike.

...

His eyes raked over the lines of name plates, until eventually they fell upon the name Raphael the Hallowed, a name he received upon his death.

"We were not very close, Brother," Castiel whispered, "but I know that if you had lived to see this, you surely would follow Michael until the very end... Sadly, I believe that end has been coming for a long time now. The fear that I am feeling now is new. It's a fear not pertaining only to me, but is also a product of the fact that when this is all over- things will never be the same again. Maybe it will be better... or worse. How can one know if the proverbial grass is greener on the other side, if they have never been on the other side of the metaphorical fence? Even so, mustn't you be on the fence itself to truly compare the two? Would it even matter then? I suppose it's all the same. You were always the most pragmatic of us all, surely you'd know the answer to all of this."

Castiel touched the nameplate with his fingertips, "Raphael the Hallowed... I wonder who of us all will be joining you soon."


	54. The Aftermath

When Dean felt himself drawn back into town, he couldn't explain why. His mind told him that it was a subconscious desire to return home to his family and pretend the past month had never happened. In fact, he was willing to pretend the past 5 years of his life never happened, he insisted to himself. However, this gravitation could easily be explained by Sam Winchester, whose eyes never left Dean's face. Sam Winchester could see that Dean had a Hunter's tracking instinct, and he was following it. John straggled behind, humming wistfully to himself, as though he were taking a leisurely stroll.

John Winchester's welcoming approach to falling back in to hunting scared Sam and unnerved Dean. Their father, who had never been what anyone would call an emotionally-invested parent, changed when Adam had been set on their doorstep. He doted on Adam in ways he never did and never would attempt with the two elder boys. Though most people would resent Adam for the attention, Sam and Dean embraced their younger half-brother who never got to know his biological mother and were stuck with a jaded father.

"Dean," Sam uttered, scooting closer to his brother as they walked. "Dad is really scaring me with how he is acting. Can you promise you will quit hunting after this?"

"Sorry, Sammy, I can't make that promise."

"Me too, Dean..." Sam said shakily, falling back behind his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry too."

...

Castiel returned to Balthazar's bedside to find Crowley and Kevin sitting in the far corner, watching Balthazar as he slept. Balthazar's ragged breaths and wheezing cloaked the sound of Castiel's entrance into the room, so when Castiel asked what they were doing, the two spun around quickly.

"Oh, Castiel." Kevin smiled, "You two are both okay."

"How is it like..." Castiel pointed to the closed curtains, "out there?"

"More blood than I've ever seen before," Crowley admitted. "It's a mess out there. Seems that most of the action is over. It's eerily quiet. So much so, that we came to check on you."

"Why bother?" Castiel snapped, stepping to his brother's side to place a palm against his forehead.

"Because, Castiel," Crowley smiled, "what happens to The Council after this is all up to you."

...

What lead Dean to the particular building he wished to search was something obvious. A small trail of blood. Something so trivial usually would not catch Dean's eye. In hindsight, Dean would wish he had just overlooked it. When Dean opened the door, the sight he saw and the stench he smelled was enough to send him vomiting onto the ground by his feet. Sam stood in shock behind Dean's retching form, eyes welling with tears. John Winchester just scowled.

Every follower of Abaddon's inside that building was dead or dying. Assortments of disemboweled corpses and bodies hanging from the rafters were all explicitly self-inflicted. Dean felt happy, deep down, that he didn't have to kill the two leaders- but he also felt extreme misery at the ingrained image of carnage and bodies swinging in the drafty room.

On the opposite side of the room, Dean saw something clenched in the hand of Abaddon's corpse. His shoulders and feet accidently bumped bodies as he passed them to reach her. He untangled her fingers from the paper to read it aloud.

" 'It is better to die in a pool of your own blood, than to have to watch what comes next. Our deaths are devout to a cause that will always be the beacon of right in the endless sea of wrong that pours from your lips. We will always be remembered as-' " Dean stopped there, wadding up the paper and throwing it into the empty fireplace.

"Dean?" Sam asked, not daring to move to his brother on the opposite side of the room, fingers grasping white-knuckled on the door's frame. "Let's go home."

Lucifer's hand on John's shoulder came as a surprise, the man letting out a gasp.

"Dean, I think it is time that you, and I, as well as all my brothers have a talk." Lucifer said in a tight-lipped way, his eyes avoiding the bodies littering the room.

"Yes," Dean agreed. "Sam, Dad, go home. I'll take it from here."

...

And so; Castiel, Gabriel, Lucifer, Crowley, Kevin, and Dean stood around the former Council's table. Lucifer's eyes became focused and he spoke first.

"Clearly there needs to be change within Arya, so let's consider our options, shall we?" He took a deep breath then exhaled easily, plastering a smile. "First option: we create a larger council with more diversity and merge all of Arya into one, ridding ourselves of the separating walls on all sides. If people want to leave, they can, same goes if they want to return. The second option: we create a balance system with the two leaders, then three for the voting of law enacting, and one to carry out the law as a sort of leader to the police."

"So are there any other ideas or are those the ones we choose from?" Crowley quipped.

Kevin gave him a scolding look, "You have any bright ideas?"

Crowley rolled his eyes then shook his head.

"So we vote, then?" Dean asked, glancing around the table. "We have an even number, it's not possible."

Castiel spoke up, his voice weak, "Dean should have two votes, since he represents the human society which is currently sorely lacking in our numbers."

"Well I vote for option A, I think we need to even all this out. Hierarchy was the problem in the first place." Dean looked around the table, and everyone nodded in agreement.

"We need to return equality to the people of Arya," Castiel spoke levelly, eyes dark and mature as he meets the eyes of Gabriel and Lucifer. "I agree with Dean. We need to unite Arya and restructure from the ground up."

"That being said," Dean offered, hands shaking slightly. "Raise your hand if this is the course of action we should take."

After a few moments, every hand rose and the decision was made.

"We must appoint the new members of our panel." Gabriel added, "Here are my candidates, feel free to disagree. I think Castiel, Lucifer, Dean, Sam, Balthazar, and myself would make a fairly good council but I still think we need one more to make voting easier."

"Adam," Kevin interrupted, "that is what he was being trained for anyhow. Besides, with Samandriel at his side as an advisor, he may grow to be a good leader."

"Do we all agree with the list of people?" Castiel asked.

Crowley moved his mouth as if to complain and Kevin shook his head at him.

"You will be promoted to head of police," Castiel offered, "and Kevin will be your right hand, if that is all right with everyone."

No one made protest, and so it was set in stone. From that point on, everything was set into motion for change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> Looking up the search topic "mass suicide" was a very (surprisingly) interesting endeavour. Initially, I was going to go into heavy detail during the mass suicide scene, having them react as a slow-acting poison ravaged their bodies, writing that in-real-time but I felt I do have to draw the line somewhere.
> 
> P.S. The most interesting case of this I found is referred to as The Dance of Zalongo. Look it up if you have the stomach for those kinds of things. It's fascinating.
> 
> P.S.S. The initial poisions I was torn between were Oleander and Strychnine.
> 
> P.S.S.S. Apparently it has been recorded somewhere that after someone (don't remember the particular person's name) was disemboweled, it took them ten hours to die. Wow.


	55. The Epilogue

A year after the Order was established, the walls between the sectors of Arya had fallen to disarray and the outer wall was in the process of demolition. A peace different than the one before arose. A peace not indoctrinated by fear, but gain from losing worries. The sun has not yet set on this particular spring afternoon.

Sam walked with Adam and Samandriel up the worn path to the house of Council. That's what the manor was called now. Those who lived there now were those within the Council, and their family members who chose to live there. Castiel lived there, as did Balthazar and Gabriel. Lucifer lived nearby in a small house with Jo and Charlie, who he had taken in like daughters. Charlie and Jo planned to marry in the upcoming fall, during the festival of color. Ellen and Bobby lived at the Roadhouse, finally mending bridges between the two of them. Dean chose to live alone in the woods, at Bobby's old shack. He mostly kept to himself, save for meetings and the occasional visit to Castiel.

Adam and Samandriel sat together at the table, whispering to each other about classes in the upcoming week. School had become an equal-opportunity for angelkind and humans, the topic of angelic creation by a man named Chuck now part of their obligatory curriculum.

Balthazar walked slowly into the room, never fully recovered from his infection that day. Castiel came in with Gabriel and Lucifer, each sitting side by side around the table. The only open seat was between Castiel and Sam was to be filled by Dean. Dean was almost always the last to arrive at the council room, his clothes covered in dust and mud from the woods.

As always, Dean and Castiel had an odd silence posed between them, but it was worked around through every meeting. It was brought to the council's attention by Samandriel that the anniversary of the coup-d'etat was coming up after the meeting had been completed and all decisions had been finalized and recorded on paper.

"The Day of Red is coming soon," he poised it more as a question to Dean more than anything. "They're going to make a point of recounting it in school."

Dean's eyes fell to the table, what Lucifer, Sam, Dean, and John saw that day had stayed between them. The story they told to the citizens the day after they cleaned it all up was a much milder one, that they had all been found lying about and seemingly healthy, as if it had been a miracle. Everyone believed the lie, or in Castiel's case, had accepted that it was the only story he was going to hear about it.

When no one took to the conversation, Adam and Samandriel left to return home before Samandriel had to leave for his work shift. Everyone filed out wordlessly save for Sam, who muttered a single word to Dean.

"Go."

Dean nodded wordlessly before stepping to Castiel's side.

"Remember the beach?"

"Yes, I do."

"Take me there?"

Castiel's confusion showed clearly on his face before disappearing completely into a blank expression. Dean realized that Castiel now probably associated the place with their falling out. This realization made him hang his head slightly as he followed in Castiel's footsteps.

...

When they arrived, Castiel watched Dean expectantly as he stood awkwardly. Castiel didn't know what Dean had to say, or how long it would take him to say it, so he sat on the shore. Dean did not sit beside him.

"Castiel," the word felt foreign on his tongue. He hadn't said it aloud or thought of the name in a year, even during meetings he avoided it entirely, opting for 'he, him, and you'. He didn't dare call him Cas. "I know that what happened between us is really messy, all things considered, but I just wanted to have a quiet place to talk. If you want to, that is."

"Messy is an understatement, murder tends to do that to a situation."

The bluntness of the statement made Dean physically wince, "If you want to know about what happened that day, about anything... I felt I should give you the chance to ask."

"I doubt you pouring your heart out to me will improve our relationship, Dean."

The coldness in Castiel's eyes was warranted, but hurt Dean nonetheless.

"I know that we're barely talking as it is, but I thought that maybe if you got some kind of closure from all of that, you could move on." Dean's hand shook slightly, when he noticed it, he focused all his will to stop it from tremoring.

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it? You want to know what happened that day, right? All of it?"

Castiel seemed to be fighting back a scowl, "I want to know the truth, not the story that Arya believes to be the truth. I do not believe in miracles. Even that _prophecy_ ," he spat the word. "Was no miracle. There is no such thing. It was a convenient coincidence. Even so, I will be hearing what you perceive to be what happened but I guess that is the best I can achieve."

"You've changed," Dean frowned.

"Death does that to people," Castiel quipped.

Dean took a deep breath before recounting his tale from beginning to end, starting the day he first went to Michael's home until the very day after the Aryan civil war. He even explained how he now lived in the woods with only bare minimum ration cards and an old guitar to his name. When Dean had finished recounting his story, he sat on the shore to rest his aching knees.

After a long bout of silence, the waves lapping quietly against the shore, Castiel finally spoke.

"Adam is my half-brother, you know. Does that make us related?" Castiel's tone was breezy but serious, causing Dean to question if he had heard the boy correctly.

"Not at all. You're his half-brother, and he's mine, but that doesn't make us related. I think?"

"Just wondering," Castiel whispered to himself, staring off into the sunset.

"Could we ever be like we were?" Dean asked, his heart caught in his throat.

"Maybe someday," he uttered, something of a sad smile on his face, "but that day is not today."

**-End-**


	56. The True Ending (The Final Oneshot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final ending for the story, takes place 4 years after the end of the story.

**_Four years after the Aryan Civil War_ **

"Dean!" Charlie called, waving to Dean enthusiastically as he made his way to The Roadhouse.

In 4 years, Dean had aged attractively- save for the permanent somber expression in his eyes, even when he smiled. Charlie and Jo looked as they had, but happier since their marriage took place 2 years ago.

Dean hugged Charlie, then Jo, who both smiled up at him. Letting Dean go, the girls practically skipped inside as Dean followed quietly behind. He had been called there but he was waiting to hear why. If he judged it by the girls' expressions, he must have forgotten a holiday again and they were going to guilt him into a really nice gift.

"What did I miss this time?" Dean asked, a tired smile on his face. "Is it your anniversary? Shit, I hope I didn't forget it again."

Jo gave him a look that would have been angry if you ignored the smile on her face, "No, Dean, that was 6 months ago and you did remember. You got us really nice paint for the house, remember?"

Dean sighed in relief, "Yes, I do remember now."

"We did want something from you though, a kind of gift." Charlie grinned impishly, "If you're up to it, of course."

"Ask and ye shall recieve," Dean says passively, taking leftover food from a plate beside him which had been left behind by a previous customer. Dean made a mental note that whoever left the food behind was a wasteful cad.

"We want you to help us have a baby." Jo said excitedly, her smile beaming.

It would be safe to say that Dean's facial expression thoroughly expressed how surprised he was on the inside.

"You need to be more specific," Charlie laughed at Jo then turned to Dean. "What my darling wife means is: we want you to be our sperm donor. Ever since 4 years ago the amount of children in the orphanages are few to none, most left are taken in by older couples who cannot surrogate. So we decided we'd let our honorary brother do the heavy lifting for us."

"I beg to differ," Jo corrected, eyes playful. "I would be the one carrying."

"True." Charlie stated, sparing a glance over at Dean who looked as though he may fall faint. "Oh, poor Dean. We really sprung this on you, didn't we? You head home, just think about it, okay? We understand if you wouldn't want to. Especially since we'd want you to be involved with raising the child, you know."

Dean nodded absently, "I'll definitely think about it."

"Thank you." Jo smiled, holding Dean's large hands in her small ones. "Have a safe walk home."

As Dean left The Roadhouse, he felt the urgent need to talk to someone about it. Glancing backward, he considered talking to Sam and Jess, maybe Samandriel and Adam if the former were not home. However, when he turned his head back he saw the manor looming in the distance.

"Cas."

With that whispered as though it were a dear secret, he made his way to Castiel's home.

...

However, he stopped along the way as a smiling Samandriel greeted him from the porch of the Central Aryan Orphanage (whose name still hadn't change despite the integration of the 3 sectors after the civil war).

Dean met him on the porch, giving the boy a loose hug. "How is everything?"

Samandriel took in a deep breath through his mouth, a smile cracking his features. "Amazing. Anyhow, I was wondering if you could help me with something since I saw you close by."

"What is it?" Dean asked, hoping whatever it was would buy him time to think about his decision for the girls.

"As you know, things have gotten very slow here. Since the previous home-mother died, I am taking her place here and all the children have to go to school. Not like when I went to school, when you could decide otherwise. All the children are at school now, and I need help hanging a banner for one of the girls, Beatrice. It's her birthday today and I got everything else ready but they'll be home any minute and I need this up before she gets here."

Dean nodded, helping Samandriel hang the banner. A few minutes later, just after he had descended the ladder the birthday banner hung above the doorway, Dean was slapped on the back followed by a laugh.

"Hey, big brother. Hope you aren't hitting on my future husband. If you do, I'll twist you into a very tiny ball." Adam grinned, laughing.

Dean rolled his eyes as Adam hugged Samandriel from behind, whispering softly in his ear.

"I'll be headed out then," Dean said with a fake, but polite, smile when Adam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Dean-o. We got some decent cake made, just stick around a while."

"Alright," Dean conceded. " Just long enough to eat some cake."

"Good," Adam smiled good-naturedly, "The kids have been wanting to meet you."

Samandriel nodded as if to confirm this, but seemed more shy about the subject, "They hear about you in school, in the history class."

Dean's breath hitched and he let out a shaky smile, sitting on a nearby chair. His legs felt as though they'd fail him, his mind remembering that room with Abaddon, with all of them. The sound of old rope swinging softly, causing creaking from above. The feeling of stale fabric rubbing him as he walked--

"Are you Dean Winchester?" A little girl asked, aged at roughly 9 years old, her hair dark brown, in tiny ringlets, and her eyes a stunning grey.

Something about the honest way she held herself, her dress a dark blue, and the candid tone in her voice reminded him of Castiel. It made his heart pause before starting again. She was smiling at him, as if he were a new form of entertainment.

"Beatrice!" A little boy's voice called, "Don't you want cake?"

"Sure," the brunette said in an exasperated tone, before turning back to Dean. "You are him. I can tell."

Dean opened his mouth to speak but found himself at a loss for words. "How?"

She pointed to Dean's wing and he let out a quiet laugh. Beatrice smiled smugly, clearly having known since the beginning. It was at this point Dean noticed she didn't have any wings. He smiled at that.

"You aren't an angel, huh?" Dean asked, trying to make conversation.

The girl's eyes seemed to lose their glisten as she shook her head, "Not really. The mother said that when I was born, my wings were all broken up, and they tore my momma open. That's why I'm an orphan."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dean whispered, heartbroken for the little girl.

"I know you are," Beatrice said sweetly, "everyone is. They took my wings out of my back 2 years ago... They were painful."

The girl's eyes looked up at Dean, "Dean, would you like to see? I can't have fabric tight on the scar," she explained, "it makes the skin raw."

The little girl took the small jacket off, turning her back to Dean so he could see the ragged scars between her shoulder blades.

His throat tightened, the girl watching him over her shoulder. Tears filled his eyes as his fingers twitched, wishing he had the ability to heal her. To do anything to help her.

After a few moments, she put her jacket back on, then gave him a small smile, "We have cake."

She grabbed his left hand with both of her small hands, pulling until he stood from his chair as she lead him to the kitchen where everyone sat at the table eating cake.

...

The group was quiet as they ate, only 7 children at the table (2 of which were in their mid-teens), until Beatrice spoke up.

"Dean," she called, after he looked up at her, she gave him a serious look. "Do you ever wonder 'what if it was someone else and not me'?"

"Every single day," he answered quietly, finishing his plate and standing to leave.

Samandriel escorted him to the door, clearly uncomfortable, "Sorry, she is very..."

"Honest," Dean answered. "She's a good little girl. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Samandriel said with interest.

"When I leave, could you talk to her?"

"About-?" Then, after a moment, he nodded somberly. "Of course."

"Thank you. I'll see you when I see you."

...

Dean had finally made his way to the front door of the manor, but dropped his sense of formality as he entered without knocking. No one was there to correct him, so he ascended the stairs in hopes to have a serious conversation with Castiel. To figure things out.

Walking to the upstairs landing, he spots Castiel sitting in the hallway against a wall, reading a book.

"Cas-" Dean starts, seeing Castiel's cold expression makes his heart still. "-tiel..."

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel asked.

Over the 4 years they had grown to be civil, friends in the loosest sense of the word, but Dean felt he could bring up his situation if only for an open ear.

"Can we talk?" Dean asked, but was met with a sour expression. "Please, Cas?"

Castiel's eyes softened and he sighed, his heart beating quickly in his chest, "What is it, Dean?"

Dean sat down across from Castiel, sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs and set his chin on his knees. He subconsciously begged his body to shield him from all that may happen during this conversation.

"I assume Charlie has told you about her and Jo's plan of having a child, since you two are close." Dean tried to hide the jealousy in his voice.

Castiel nodded, he did know. He knew for days, the girls had been waiting until a break between council meetings to tell him. However, due to the disheveled state that Dean was in, it was clear that Dean had come to talk to him first. Castiel's heart swayed in his chest, ever so slightly.

"They want me to be the surrogate father." Dean almost whispered, shock dripping from his voice.

"They what?" Castiel asked, shocked. He hadn't heard that part of the plan.

"And they want me to be involved with the child, obviously." A thought crossed Dean's mind, which changed his expression into a somber smile. "I want them to be happy, they deserve to be truly happy. After everything that's happened, it'd be nice to be responsible for bringing a life in to the world... instead of taking it away."

Castiel's eyes steeled and his heart clenched within his chest, "That would be a change, wouldn't it?"

Dean, ashamed and wounded by the comment, flinched and curled his arms tighter around his legs as he sat across from Castiel.

"Why don't you find some girl, Dean? I'm sure there are women lined up waited to be bedded by the martyr of Arya."

"That's not fair, Cas," Dean whispered.

"And why isn't it?"

"You know damn good and well, Cas!"

"Please, _inform_ me, Dean!" Castiel hissed.

"I've been waiting for you! I've been holding out on the smallest hope we could try to start over! God  _dammit_ , I still love you Cas. I always will. I wanted to start a family with you, but if that never happens then it never happens. I'm not afraid to die alone without you, Cas. I am just afraid that one day you'll turn around and I won't be there anymore."

"Get out."

"What?" Dean asked, hoping he had heard wrong.

"Leave, Dean. We won't! Never! Never..."

Dean felt a burn in his head, as though this mind willed his body to burn all thoughts of Castiel from his mind. The mind's task was fruitless and so Dean ran down the stairs, slamming the main door as he left.

Castiel was left behind, his heart aching, "Never... Never..."

Castiel broke into sobs, throwing his beloved book at a nearby wall before tugging at his hair as he cried in agony. "I love you too... Dean... I love you too... Forget me... Please..."

...

A few days later, at a meeting with the other members of the Order, they congratulate Adam on his engagement to Samandriel. They talk about Adam and Samandriel moving into the orphanage together to take over the care of the children.

After a particularly excited comment from Adam, Castiel rises from the table quickly. The chair knocks out behind him with a clatter, Castiel fleeing the room. Dean sped closely behind, reaching the door to Castiel's room.

He raises a fist to knock, then exhales sharply through his nose and enters Castiel's room unannounced. Castiel glares angrily out the window, his arms crossed as he desperately holds back tears. His bottom lip quivers, making Dean remember the fond memory of kissing those lips. He reaches out to touch Castiel, who flinches under the touch but does not move or turn his head to look at Dean.

"Cas... What's wrong?"

"Do you have any regrets? About us being... trying to be friends again after all these years?"

"No, I'm happy." Dean admits, smiling gently. "I'm happy to mean anything at all to you. Even if I can't be close to you again..."

Castiel's face scrunches in distaste, "It would be much easier to hate you if you acted the part of a villain when killing my family... but I suppose it was for the greater good... Things have gotten better since then," Castiel sighs, the tears falling from his eyes freely. "The sun even seems to shine brighter."

"Why did you leave the meeting?"

"The meeting was over, that was just gossip," Castiel muttered, wiping his eyes.

"Cas..." Dean whispered, turning Castiel sideways so he could look in his eyes. "The truth."

"I'm jealous, is that what you wanted to hear?" Castiel muttered quietly, crossing his arms tight enough against his chest that his knuckles turned white.

"I want to hear what you'd like to say. If that's what it was, then I'll take it."

"Dean," Castiel muttered, "Why do you still wait for me?"

"You're it." Dean said it so quietly, he was sure Castiel couldn't have heard it. "You're my destiny... prophecy or not, I know you're the only person I could ever love the way I do."

"Dean?"

"Yes?"

"I can't forgive you."

"I know."

"I still love you." Castiel smiled, his smile shaking as he began crying again. "I can't stop."

"Then don't," Dean whispered, holding Castiel to his chest. "Never stop. I'll wait forever if that's what it takes. I'll never leave your side."

"That's what I was hoping for," Castiel spoke, his voice raspy and torn with emotion. "So, had you decided?" Castiel sniffed, "About Jo and Charlie's offer?"

"I'm going to do it," Dean admitted, "and I plan on adopting a little girl from the orphanage today. I'm just waiting for Samandriel to finish the paperwork."

"You are?" Castiel asked, moving back to look up at Dean in shock.

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "Her name is Beatrice, I've been visiting her the past few days and she said she would like to be my daughter. In a way, she kind of reminds me of you."

"Can I meet her?" Castiel asked quietly.

"Sure you can. Actually, I was wondering if she and I can move into the manor with you, Crowley and Kevin, the shack in the woods is a tad small. If that's okay with you, of course."

"Yeah," Castiel whispered, his heart exhausted as he leaned his head into Dean's chest. "It's okay with me..."

"I love you." Cas whispered as an afterthought, unsure if he should have even said it aloud.

Dean hugged Castiel tightly, smiling, "You too, Cas, always. My angel."

...

_**9 months later** _

"Daddy!" Beatrice grinned, running into Dean's arms. "Class was so fun today, I wish you'd been there."

"No you don't, Bee, your Daddy decided this morning that I needed to try some soup he'd made. It was vile. Be glad you were not there to taste it," Castiel joked, winking at Dean.

"Cassie," Beatrice smiled, "can we go see Aunt Jo and Aunt Charlie after I finish my homework?"

"Sure, baby girl." Dean smiled, taking the girl's hand while Castiel took the other.

 After a while, they made their way inside the manor, all three sparing a smile to Kevin and Crowley who were playing a very enthusiastic game of cards. The three headed upstairs to the main hallway, Beatrice taking her place at the table and the boys leaning a nearby wall.

"Can I wear my blue dress to the wedding, Cassie?" Beatrice asked, making Castiel smile.

"I don't see why not." Castiel answered, Dean smiling lovingly at him.

The two walked to the window in front of Castiel (and Dean's) room, watching each other.

"Cas?" Dean asked, once they were alone. "You're sure about this, right? About us?"

"I was the one who proposed, Dean, of course. It's water under the bridge now, besides, I am determined to get married before Gabriel and Jeremiah. I made a bet and I plan on winning it."

Dean smiling, kissing Castiel's neck, "You're awful."

"Marry me?" Castiel cooed, eyes mischievous.

"I plan to." Dean grinned, catching wind of Castiel's train of thought. "Baby girl, go do your homework at Aunt Jo and Charlie's! They'll be glad to see you!"

"Are you and Cassie gonna kiss and stuff?" Beatrice yelled from downstairs.

"Yes, Bee!" Castiel yelled, holding back a laugh.

"Got it! I'm gone! I'll say hi to Daniel and Cyrus for you." She yelled, grin evident in her voice as she made a point to close the front door loudly as she left for Jo and Charlie's.

"Dean," Castiel smiled. "How about we celebrate the honeymoon night a little early?"

"Only if that means we can have two." Dean teased.

"Glad we are on the same page," Castiel grinned, opening the door before pulling Dean in for a breathtaking kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.
> 
> Okay guys, so this is the FINAL oneshot and ending for Freak of Nature. It's been a ride, guys. If you'd like to know any finer details, leave a comment and I'll tell you.
> 
> ~deathbyinsomnia


End file.
